A Pinch of Spice

by Alcamia Payne

  Eliza listened to all of this with a poker face. It wouldn’t do to show exactly how surprised she was at the revelation. Could it be that Emile had a clothes fetish? Well, well, that thought required further consideration.

  Was she falling in love? Eliza pondered. By now Emile had kissed her many times. He’d kissed her neck and her erogenous zones, her arms and legs and décolletage. The only place she didn’t permit any kisses was directly on her mouth, since the mouth was the lock, and his tongue was the key to love.

  Sinking into delicious revelry, she filed away each detail of Emile’s daily lessons to take out later when she was alone. Then she replayed them over and over while she writhed and squealed on her bed. There was no doubt about it; against her better judgement he inflamed and awoke feelings in her she rarely indulged. She knew she ought to control it, should control it, because where would it lead? The only place it could lead to, of course – danger, love. And yet on each occasion she became more daring, allowing Emile to see a little more of her flesh, perpetually tempting him with a flash of lace or a bow.

  Eliza was beginning to behave very badly. She wore skirts which revealed her well-shaped calves, dainty shoes which showed the turn of her ankle, and skilfully plunging décolletages highlighting the barest crescent of nipple.

  ‘Today’s lesson,’ Eliza stated, ‘involves how to touch and how to derive gratification from the responses of the body.’

  Emile stretched out, smiling flirtatiously, and the devil whispered in her ear, urging Eliza into ever more salacious daydreams. Something went pop inside her as her gaze travelled over him hungrily and she considered what love would be like in a perfect world. How might she be able to take the lessons further, for instance, and persuade him to undress? Already, she’d forced him to unbutton his shirt so she could demonstrate how a hand felt on his skin, these acts being designed for her own self-indulgence rather than anything else. She sighed. Gracious, he’d not shaved again and a shadow crept attractively over his chin. She wondered how that stubble would feel against her cunt. ‘I think it’s about time you undressed, Emile. We must move on to the next level of instruction.’

  Emile peered at her provokingly. ‘I’ve no objection to that.’ Without further ado, he clambered to his feet, hastily unbuttoning his shirt and letting it drop from his shoulders. He never objected to anything she suggested, his coy acceptance and willingness to submit being just two more of his charming attributes.

  A strangled moan escaped Eliza’s lips as her whole body turned molten. He’d explained to her he was a wild creature; that he liked to run and climb. So she’d been aware he’d have a muscular, toned body. But nothing had prepared her for the full force of his beauty. He possessed none of the thick chest hair of most men. Oh no, he was incredibly smooth. Emile’s nipples were dark-hued, the prominences standing proud and begging to be pinched. His torso flowed into a slightly concave belly with just the barest hint of body hair above the area of his belt buckle.

  ‘Instruct me, Eliza.’ He was reaching for that buckle right now. ‘I’m perfectly at ease, do what you will.’

  She tingled all over, and the cutting lace between her legs made her erupt in shudders of pleasure. A man of such complexities was an enigma. A naïve idiot on the one hand, he was also the brazen seducer on the other.

  ‘No, not the buckle. Not yet.’

  ‘Eliza.’ He knelt at her feet, took hold of her hands, and began to kiss them. ‘Liberate me, please.’ Placing her hands on his chest, he moved them to and fro, over the hard nubs. She couldn’t resist the temptation and she pinched one lightly beneath her thumb and forefinger, making him groan with delight. ‘That’s nice, Eliza.’ Then, before he could stop her, he grabbed one of her fingers and slid it into his mouth. Drawn closer to warm flesh, she melted against him, the flicker of his tongue on her fingertip sending lances of white-hot lust through her belly which spread further, to touch places Eliza dreamed about having touched but had not yet consented to.

  ‘Don’t be shocked. You see, I have fantasies too and I’ve lived them all in my head. My greatest fantasy has been the one of you and me. A fabulous, knowledgeable woman, liberating and releasing me from my physical bondage.’ He pressed her now wet thumb to his nipple. ‘Coax me so that I might know how the feel of a woman influences me.’

  Driven by desire, her entire body dancing with sensations, she could do nothing but relent. Eliza stroked his skin, very gently at first, drawing small spirals with her tongue, then lashing it with broad laps. Next, she smoothed her hands over his tight muscles and across his chest, moving them down over his concave, flexing muscles to the belt buckle, purposefully feathering his taut cock with the stiff lace of her sleeve. As she bent further down she licked his nipple, the lace and satin of both long sleeves and copious bows feathering his skin and making him cry out like a wounded animal. Eliza’s head spun with delight. She was wielding her power, and feeling powerful always precipitated her into orgasm. A lurid fantasy began rising from the depths of her subconscious. She believed Emile’s story, but as innocent as he appeared on the outside, on the stage of his mind his thoughts masqueraded in a number of naughty guises, only limited by the boundaries of what, she was sure, was a greedy, filthy imagination. A nip with her teeth elicited a hiss of satisfaction.

  ‘A certain pain’s welcome spice, isn’t it, Emile?’

  ‘Mmm,’ he moaned as once again he guided her hand down over his flat belly to his buckle.

  Eliza revelled in the mystery of his body, her turbulent feelings coalescing in a whirlpool of shudders and explosive, wet pleasure. ‘I think that’s enough of a lesson for today.’

  ‘Oh no, Eliza.’ He grinned at her mischievously. ‘Please, show me what I should expect from a woman and then you can teach me how to bring her satisfaction and liberation. Isn’t that the nature of our contract?’ He was helping her now as, coaxed by her own hungers, she struggled with his buckle. ‘In order to instruct me you must see the bare canvas of my body, as only then can you begin to understand me.’

  Emile sagged back with a gasp, his unbuttoned fly exposing a square of pink flesh.

  Eliza slithered to the floor, her hand slipping beneath, holding her breath as she felt the tuberosity stirring and filling her hand. ‘A short, sharp shock’s the best way to tackle any problem. It’s like a fear of water. If you stand and regard it too long you’ll never plunge in.’

  Emile stood up and Eliza jerked his pants down over his thighs, wriggling them down his legs. In his nakedness he was a breathtaking Adonis. His legs were long and lean and his full balls nestled in a nest of fine, dark pubic hair, framing the most imposing cock she’d ever seen. The answer to a woman’s dream, in fact. A thrusting spear, it needed no further coaxing from her to bring it to full attention as now it was shiveringly erect. And the best part was he’d never been tutored in cunt. No, this virgin creature had never felt a woman’s velvet walls or moist warmth.

  ‘Look at it. Tell me why I’m so afflicted?’ Emile cried, covering his eyes with his hands.

  Breathlessly she leant forward. Her body, fertilised by the sight of such delights, was bursting into ardent growth. She’d never been so feverish and wet. Eliza gently drew back the foreskin, inspecting the bulbous tip with her thumb and forefinger. How she wanted to slide it in her mouth.

  ‘Help me, Eliza. You see how stiff it is, but still not yet ready to yield? If I cannot learn to liberate myself what chance do I stand with a lover?’

  ‘Aha,’ Eliza murmured, enjoying the feel of quivering penile strength under her fingers. ‘So, we come to the ulterior motive. You’ve met a girl you like and you fear you’ll look an idiot?’ Seized with rapacious longing, her thick, black ringlets had fallen loose of her combs and now straggled around her face, and her expression was a mixture of wide-eyed wonder and lust. Licking her lips, she stroked his belly, letting her fingertips graze his cock. ‘We’ll move in slow increments. First of all you must learn how it feels to be caressed and then
you’ll have more of an appreciation of what a woman wants.’ She ran her hands up his lean thighs. Emile barely moved, but a gentle shudder, like the ripples on a pool, passed over him. Eliza watched, enraptured, as the rod tightened even more, its pumping blood supply deliciously latticing it with prominent veins. For shame, the boy was a specimen to behold. Eliza was dizzy and almost out of her mind with conflicting emotions.

  ‘Oh, that’s so good,’ he whimpered, as she stroked her nail gently up his penis and circled the tip. Then, stretching his arms above his head, he arched his back. ‘Release me, release me from this prison, and then I want you to instruct me in how you like to be touched.’

  His gaze had fastened on the ruffles concealing Eliza’s breasts and it was these he concentrated on now as Eliza, yielding to her lusts, set to work milking him with the skill of a milk maiden. Although love didn’t come into it, she adored the male form and this new creature – who responded so adeptly to her embraces and who she knew would one day be capable of giving a woman thrilling sensations – was suddenly the centre of her attentions. As much as she played and coaxed, though, Emile would not gush.

  Eliza soon began to wonder how such a remarkably young man could control his animal passions, since that was what he was evidently doing. What a lover he’d make in the fullness of time. She couldn’t help it; determined to succeed in an expulsion, she circled the quivering organ with the tip of her tongue.

  ‘Eliza, you’re torturing me!’ Emile wailed as she slipped the object of her desires into her mouth and began subjecting it to the attentions of her tongue. ‘Eliza, Eliza, help me.’

  She bit down gently, waiting for the spurt of warm ejaculate. Instead, Emile’s cock twitched once or twice but remained as firm as before.

  Eliza rocked back, surprised. Now, this was unusual and yet there was something perversely exciting about a ramrod hard dick which remained obstinate. If Emile had been her lover, she’d have been ecstatic.

  ‘Do you see how my life’s ruined? How will I ever please a woman like Penelope?’

  ‘Penelope.’ Eliza felt a frisson of jealousy but rapidly tried to dismiss it. How could he dream of Penelope Carter at a time like this?

  Emile grasped his hawser of a cock in his hand. ‘This thing which I should control controls me, as if it has a life of its own.’

  Eliza raised an eyebrow. ‘But, Emile, all it requires is discipline and, like an obdurate horse, it must be tamed. These are early days. You should count yourself lucky. Most men of my acquaintance have trouble holding in their juices and crave control.’

  ‘Not me. Despite the most ardent passion it won’t release. And I confess, since I met you, it’s the hardest it’s ever been.’

  ‘There’s no need to worry, I’ve heard of this problem before.’ Eliza soothed. You must simply learn to relax and, miraculously, the problem will solve itself. Sex is a skill. You’ve spent so long denying your power you need to learn how to release it.’

  ‘And do you think you can instruct me in that, Eliza?’

  Eliza surveyed the fine specimen in front of her. Beneath her skirts her thighs were wet with her love juices and her thighs quivered with greed as she dreamt about impaling herself on the quivering shaft – a shaft, it must be said, which would remain ramrod hard for as long as she wished to indulge herself. ‘Of course, Emile. But this is a delicate situation and we need to wake you up carefully. If sex won’t do it, then there’s bound to be some little fetish which will distract you enough to lose yourself. Once your mind’s preoccupied with pleasures other than ejaculation, it’ll just happen.’ Eliza was trying to suppress her excitement. One thing was for sure, this unexpected conundrum was going to provide her with a massive distraction of her own.

  Chapter Seven

  Whether he knew it or not, Eliza reflected, Emile was gifted in the arts of love and she revelled in every moment of his tutoring as she taught him the way to caress a woman, each stroke of his fingers as they travelled over her skin a symphony of sensations. ‘You’re very good at this,’ she commented as he inspected her nipples, which were visible through an exquisite panelling of fine Bruges lace. ‘In fact, I’d say your touch is better than a man with ten years’ experience.’

  By now, Eliza had allowed Emile to touch her a great deal.

  ‘They grow hard so quickly, Eliza, how does it feel?’ he said thoughtfully as he tentatively squeezed her nipple again.

  ‘Sometimes, I wonder who’s giving these lessons. Who’s the professor and who’s the student?’

  Emile laughed, tossing back his thick hair. ‘Wouldn’t it be nice if, for once, a man and a woman could be on equal terms? However, in this case I know who’s mistress.’

  Eliza pondered for a moment. She’d been pondering a great many things lately, not least of which was the realisation that she should never have conceded to Katia’s silly request. She’d underestimated temptation and had engaged in a dangerous game that was becoming more and more intoxicating.

  Emile watched her with his provocative glance while pressing his cheek to the tight satin of her kiss-stained bodice. ‘I wonder if your skin’s as smooth as this satin?’ He ran his tongue across the smooth swell of her belly, or at least what he could see of it between the lacings and intricate fastenings, which he was now trying to loosen with his teeth. She held her breath; he was an extremely fast learner, treating each lesson as if he was an ardent adventurer setting foot on a new continent. ‘When you were playing with my nipples, Eliza, it was like you could control my cock. You may as well have had a whip in your hand, an invisible whip, for you were directing me.’

  Eliza swallowed. Her mouth was dry. ‘A whip would be a vulgar pursuit, don’t you think?’ she retorted cautiously, wondering at the same time if a flick of her riding crop might indeed do the trick. ‘Although, as regards fetishes and in view of what you told me before, what’s meat to one man is poison to another.’

  Cupping her breast, Emile pinched her nipple between his thumb and forefinger as, leaning forward, he brushed her lips with his tongue. Eliza sat up abruptly, trying to push him away; instead, Emile tumbled her back on the bed. His lips were soft, his tongue deft and naughty as it darted here and there. ‘I’ll kiss you properly and as a lover might,’ he said, ‘and hang the consequences.’

  ‘And I’ll punish you for insubordination.’ She hated it that he was taking the initiative. Eliza’s heart was hammering and she bubbled with rage as she pummelled him with her fists. But Emile, having pinned her down, was kissing her forcefully and bruising her lips. ‘What’s come over you? Let me go. I’m your instructress.’

  ‘I’ve wondered if an erotic examination of your plump and unctuous body might fire my gun, Eliza. And then I thought the divine sweet, musky smell of you might do it. I begin to think in the light of all your lusciousness, Penelope’s a little inferior with her stick-thin arms and legs.’

  ‘You mustn’t be rude about Penelope,’ Eliza retorted. Penelope Carter was the daughter of Fiona Carter, a distant relation of the king. Most of the family were tall and willow-thin, with fine, corn-coloured hair, testimony to their Dutch heritage, but with an insipid set of complementary features to go with it.

  ‘You’re right. Sometimes my emotions get the better of me, and when they do you must correct me and correct me severely.’ Emile sat up, kissing her hand and holding it to his breast. ‘Perhaps I’m truly possessed by the devil? No wonder my mother struck me. Do you see how my frustrations bubble to the surface? Lately I feel like a kettle boiling on the hob and about to blow its lid. What woman could possibly want a man enchained with such perversities?’

  ‘Patience,’ Eliza soothed, sitting up and adjusting her ringlets. ‘You trust me and my wise counsel, don’t you, Emile? Anyway, I’ve been thinking and here’s my suggestion. From tomorrow we’ll try different methods.’ She was fiddling with the key around her neck. ‘There’s always a key to unlocking any conundrum, the clever part is finding it.’

  Eliza quivere
d as she fantasised about lowering herself very slowly onto his slippery pole.

  ‘You really imagine I can be cured then, Eliza?’

  ‘Yes, I do, Emile. With intimacy it’ll happen one day. In the meantime …’

  The next day was terribly hot and they were lying on the couch by the window in the parlour. Outside, birds were singing in the trees and bees buzzed lazily in the honeysuckle which curled around the mullioned windows.

  Emile opened an eye and smirked at her. ‘We have a good friendship, don’t we, and as good friends we can ask anything of one another?’

  ‘Of course, Emile.’

  ‘I find I’m changing and becoming intoxicated by your very presence, Eliza.’ He sat up, his look blazing with emotion. ‘I’m ready to progress and you must make it happen apace.’

  How virile and handsome he is, Eliza thought, as the forbidden images she stored up to be enjoyed as guilty pleasures late at night tumbled through her consciousness. She experienced a flutter of excitement. ‘You are? Well, that’s good, but progress how?’

  ‘As you directed, I’ve been testing myself and revealing what things please me and which don’t. As a result I’ve come to this conclusion. Would you not dress for me, as I request?’

  Seeing Eliza’s look of consternation, he kissed her quickly on the lips. ‘My darling, let me detail my findings. It seems I have a very complex mind, for I’ve pondered your beauty and tantalizing body – which is surely enough to inspire any man, with its sumptuous curves and wet folds – and I discover the thing which excites me isn’t simply the notion of you naked, but perhaps more importantly, the thought of what conceals you. Your clothes are so sensually pleasing they’re a feast, and there are more folds and ruffles than I’ve ever seen in my life. I dream of touching your silks and satins and the little pieces of lace you put in your hair.’ Grasping her skirt, he buried his face in it. ‘Forgive me, Eliza. I want to be tortured by your vêtements.’