With one butler and his assistant, plus a male cook—whom she never met—but who also served as man-of-all-work, her masculine household’s uniqueness was noted by the ton. Indeed, her household became a notorious topic and a bane to her slightly more conventional half-brothers, Adam, Wes and Jack Stanhope.
But she told herself she could not care overmuch. Her dear brothers were not exactly paragons of sexual virtue and in fact, lived up the demands of the males in the family that they be accomplished lovers. She, too, was a Stanhope, after all, and could flaunt convention as her ancestors had. True, too, she was also a by-blow of the eighth earl, Lord John, and thus not only on the other side of the blanket but entitled to act like it if she wished. And she did sincerely wish. Plus, like her brothers, she would never find happiness in love or marriage. She was a victim of the family curse that damned all love affairs within marital bounds. So why then should she not give herself what happiness she might take?
Thus tonight, after burying her husband in July and allowing herself two more months to train and be trained by her new staff, Clarice shivered in anticipation of her initiation into a new world of carnal delights. A world described to her by her butler and his assistant. A world she craved for the lonely days of her existence. For if love was not her destiny, if marriage an impossibility and a prison of its own making, if children not her goal, then pleasure would be.
Tonight was her first evening to sample her new lifestyle. She trembled deliciously as she rose from her bathtub, stepped over the porcelain rim to the floor and allowed her butler to wrap her naked body in a heated bath towel.
“Thank you, Robert,” she smiled at the man whom her husband had hired for her to embark on the search for her own ecstasies. She adored the man’s luscious swarthy looks, the breadth of his shoulders, the bulk of his arms and his experience as a colonel in the Iberian Campaign. A colleague of her brother Wes, Robert had acquired a leg wound that left him with a slight limp.
“Madam,” he said in homage with that baritone she felt stroke her spine in velvet tones.
“You may want to use the French lavender perfume this evening.”
“Really?” She admired his sculpted mouth and allowed her praise to emanate from her eyes. “Where would you suggest I apply it tonight?” she asked. He always had novel ideas that titillated her senses—and creamed her chat.
“For the Baron DeVere, I would say the hollow of your breasts.” His voice rumbled as his umber gaze travelled from one areola to the other and sank to the deep valley between.
“And for Lord Landover?” she asked, recalling that Robert and Landover were childhood friends.
“The hollow between your buttocks.” Robert’s hell-dark gaze locked on hers.
“He likes a woman’s nether place, does he?” She pressed her thighs together as more of her private juices coated her labia and began to trickle down her thighs.
“Very much. He can show you the joys of it like no other man. You are prepared for this?” he asked, his muscular arms embracing her as he ran his hands down her backbone to cup her cheeks, define the cleft between them, and press inside her asshole with one long index finger.
“I am. See how my nipples pebble at the very thought.” She pushed her breasts together in anticipation, offering up the glorious globes to her butler and her fantasies. Her eyes closed.
“Let me feel your delight here,” Robert persisted on the topic of her preparation and now twisted his fingers high inside her tiny rosette.
“See how I respond,” she crooned, her head falling back on her shoulders, squeezing her buttocks and thrilling to the man’s touch. “Do I not excite you?” she persisted, suppressing once more the urge to voice what she knew to be true about her butler and his assistant’s identities.
Roger’s breath blew warm against her shoulder as he caressed her upper arms and stepped away. “I have prepared your chamber. The oils, the brandy and cigars.”
She shook once more in anticipation, her nipples rubbing the nub of the towel. “I am very eager to get on with this and learn. You have been most helpful with suggestions to entertain them at the same time.” She felt her face flush in a betraying naivete she knew was a remnant of her sexual innocence.
“Come, let me arrange you on your chaise longue.” He took her hand and led her into her boudoir. The red velvets and silks of her bedding had been a favorite of hers and she had added copiously to the room rich in tapestries and upholstery. Her newest acquisition—a magnificent black chaise longue—stood apart. Made to hold her and two men, the piece came from Italy, ordered by Robert last summer while she was still in proper mourning. He had suggested it and she had spent long empty days enjoying its comfort as the butler tutored her in how to excite herself with her fingers and later with a porcelain phallus of exquisite large size.
Tonight, she was to use the chaise for the first time with others—and she put a hand to her mons, quivering inside.
Robert led her to the black reclining beauty and helped her sit, then positioned her arms, just so, to frame her large breasts, her shapely long legs, one demurely crossing before her naked cunt, and her feet, those flawless dainties that she knew some men yearned to kiss.
Robert’s gaze examined her intricately. “Is your cunt creaming in welcome yet?”
“Oh, yes,” she whispered. “I long to open my hot pussy and let my guests lick and suck me to completion.” One of her hands strayed to her mound, her index finger eager to delve inside. “I fear to dissipate my desire though. I want them to give me their best, their most inventive offerings.”
A knock sounded on the door to the hall.
“Come in,” Robert called so that the door opened and his assistant, Gerald, a strapping big Scotsman quickly entered. He too was black–haired with curls that touched his forehead and highlighted his ink-black eyes.
Gerald assessed Clarice in her pose and his wide-eyed gaze met hers, telling her he approved. “Lovely. The French lavender tonight?”
Clarice nodded.
“My favorite,” he growled.
Robert surveyed Clarice as he asked Gerald, “Anything else you see we should ensure my lady has to aid her in her efforts?”
“Has she practiced today with the china phallus?” Gerald asked his eyes on her mouth.
“She has indeed,” Robert reported. “I watched her. She is most accomplished. I am certain she will delight the Baron with her talents.”
“And what say you of my lady’s progress with the plugs?” Gerald lifted his chin to indicate her asshole.
“I have stretched myself to the largest one, Gerald,” she told him with pride of accomplishment.
“I have inspected her nether hole, Gerald, and she is sufficiently accustomed to receive Landover’s cock.”
Clarice swooned, eagerness swelling her labia and coursing through her veins. “I need them now, both of them. Gerald, Robert, please,” she beseeched them with her eyes now watering with ripe expectation.
Robert nodded, his handsome visage tight with strain. “You will not move nor touch your cunt until I bring them up to you?”
“No,” she responded, fond of him to the point of wanting his approval, his friendship.
“Do I not always do as you ask?” She batted her lashes at him prettily.
“Very well, Madame.” Robert took one last assessment of her as she sat unmoving.
She was, after all, his creation. Tutored by him, she had progressed to this point where she was ready to have two men at once. Gerald had supervised, advised and offered new ways to stretch her greedy pussy and her bald ass.
“Let us leave her, Gerald. Think only of bliss,” Roger instructed her, shooed his assistant out, grasped the handle, stared deep into her eyes, then shut the door.
She sighed back against her sumptuous cushions. Her throbbing labia swelled with need to be petted and kissed. Her little asshole twitched with the desire to be deflowered for the first time. Her mouth made a moue, as she yearned for it to
encompass a huge cock and bring it to spurting fulfillment.
A minute or more later, she heard footfalls on the stairs. She held her breath, mad to be ravished as she had always longed to be. Wild to take a man the way she’d imagined and then been told by Robert and Gerald that men would want her to love them.
The door opened and in walked two deliciously fit, broad shouldered, black-haired men.
She smiled, knowing them each so well. One with wavy silken hair. One with curly. Both with masks.
She had not asked for that. Had not wanted it. In fact, she’d railed against the seeming anonymity. But Robert had told her that for the first time, it would add brio to their mutual discovery. Heighten their passions more quickly, more completely. As they became more adept to each other’s preferences and foibles, as they discovered new joys on their journey, the masks would then come off.
She had agreed. Their faces, she mused, were not as vital to her excitement as their build, their coloring and their ingenuity in bed. After all, she knew their faces, their roguishly handsome faces. And she knew the rich enticing bravado of their voices.
The curly–haired fellow stepped forward to her side. He bowed and took her hand to kiss in the continental manner. “Lady Ramsey,” he said with a slight Scottish pronunciation to it.
“Clarice,” he murmured as he put his lips to her hand and followed it with a lick of the tip of his tongue. “Lord Geoffrey Landover, at your service.”
“Geoffrey,” she rolled the name on her tongue and by its use, dispensed with needless formalities. “I have eagerly anticipated you coming here.”
“And I as well, Clarice. May I introduce my cousin, the Baron DeVere?” Geoffrey turned, to extend a hand toward the other man.
This man strode forward with a hitch to his step, a remnant she knew of his days in the cavalry. He bent to kiss her cheek. “Clarice. Baron Roger DeVere.”
“Roger,” she settled herself back to her cushions and let her breasts sway to tempt him.
“How wonderful to have you here.”
“Clarice, t’will be my pleasure and Geoff’s to have you here.”
She laughed, loving the twinkle in Roger’s dark eyes as he teased her. “Would you care for a brandy?”
“Allow me,” Geoff said and moved to the sideboard, knowing precisely where she kept her spirits.
“Do not move a hair on your head,” instructed Roger and smiled in broad appreciation of her pose. “You are a delicious piece. Don’t you think, Geoff?”
“I do,” Geoff stated as he poured amber liquor into three small glasses. “I am eager to taste just how delicious, Clarice.”
“I have douched with French waters of rosemary.” She wiggled in her seat. “The better to have you enjoy yourself while I do the same.” She stared at his lavish mouth as one hand drifted to her folds and two fingers opened her seam. The room filled with the aroma of her warm cunt, rosemary and lavender.
“Ah-ah.” Roger put a hand to her mound, his long fingers warm and gentle. “You are not to move until we tell you. Oh, thank you, Geoff. Take your brandy, Clarice.”
She accepted it and took a sip. The warm liquid slid down her throat and she anticipated the warmth there which she’d soon give to Geoff. “Please come here, Geoffrey, as I am very hungry to see your attributes.”
He chuckled, downed his brandy and strolled over her, unbuttoning his frock coat, his shirt and his trousers as he came. By the time he stood before her, he had only to shrug out of them, removing his trousers last and revealing flawless, bare skin. And a gloriously long cock that stood high and hard and red in attention.
“Lovely,” she crooned and licked her lips at the sight of drops of cum on his tip. “Do come nearer and let me show you how delighted I am with your acquaintance.”
Geoff took two steps forward, his iron shaft just at the level of her mouth. She rejoiced that they were so well attuned. Robert had told her that this chaise was constructed in the very best dimensions for assignations and she now had proof he was so right.
She ran her hand along Geoff’s penis and admired its rock hard beauty. She let her hand drift to his root and cupped his balls, as Robert had told her the baron would like her to do. She encompassed the blue helmet of his cock and rubbed her thumb over the tip. “You cry for me, Geoff. I am honored.” Then she showed him how much she was as her lips sank over him and laved the hot shaft.
Geoff received her attentions, hands on his hips, breathing heavily. She glanced up. His eyes were closed, his head thrown back. She preened. And she licked him, first one side and then down the impressive length of the other. She felt her cunt flood with the lubrication to take all of his wealth inside her, and she whimpered. She kissed his tip and once more, covered him with her mouth. Oh, my god, he was so big, so round, she wondered if she might fail him and she worked him, harder and harder. But in her own foggy mind, she began to hear him moan. Then she felt him plunge his fingers in her hair and hold her to him. That’s when she sucked him more deeply down her throat and she felt him jerk, yell and give off the most generous deluge of cum into her willing mouth and down her elegant throat.
She swallowed. “Delicious,” she told him, kissing his tip as she raised her face to him.
Geoff gave her a handkerchief.
“Thank you,” she murmured politely, wiping her lips.
“The pleasure was mine, Clarice,” he told her. “Now let me see your cunt.”
Her gaze went to Roger who stood a foot away, his own gaze never moving from her mouth. “Would you like to see my channel as well?”
Roger inhaled deeply. “Yes. Spread your legs, Clarice.”
Slowly and with a tender smile growing on her mouth, she bowed her legs, then spread them wide.
Geoff cleared his throat. “Your chat is bare!” He was obviously thrilled.
Clarice opened wider for his better view. “My butler gave me the idea to shave. He supervised. Not a nick to my flawless skin.”
“Admirable man,” Geoff said.
She settled her buttocks more deeply to the chaise and titled up her mons for his examination. “Do you like the way my cunt gleams with my juices, Roger?”
“I do, Clarice.” He waggled a finger at her. “Wider please. I like to see how your inner folds hang down from your mound. I will be happy to tug them open and investigate each little curve and crease.”
She gulped at the scrumptious idea. “Will you do that now, Roger?” Please.
“No, I need to see how well you have learned how to take a man inside your pretty ass.”
He indicated she should roll over. “Let me see your bum, Clarice.”
She turned to her elbows and rose up on her knees, tilting her waist down so that her ass stood up high in the air.
“Oh, Christ, cuz,” groaned Geoff, “that is a lovely sight. Look at that rosy hole and below, those coated, glistening lips. She will be such a superb fuck.”
She moaned. “Will you please come and put your fingers inside me, Roger?”
“Eager are you, my darling?” he asked in that loud strong voice that rippled through her.
“I am, I am. I have been such a good student, don’t you agree? For months and months, I have been waiting and wanting.” She turned her head. “Remove your clothes, my man. I need to see you in your glory.”
Geoff hooted. “She has become demanding, Roger. What will you do?”
“Why this, of course,” Roger answered, coming forward and spanking her on one ass cheek and eliciting a shriek of surprise and a roll her hips.
“More, Roger,” she begged.
“Like this, my pretty?” he asked and smacked her on the other cheek.
“Yes!” She groaned and offered up her buttocks again. “My pussy needs a spanking, too.
Don’t you think she does? She’s such a bad girl. Make her behave, Roger,” she whimpered.
Roger bent and kissed her on her cunt, then took the flat of his hand and tapped her.
“Harder,
darling,” she pleaded.
And he complied.
She quivered and let down more luscious juices. “I am creaming for you, Roger. Might you want me to be soaked when you invade my sweet cunt, hmm?”
He rapped her frilly folds again and she groaned.
But he was driven by now. She watched him from between her thighs as he grunted, then removed every stitch of his elegant evening attire. The body he revealed was a work of art. With saber wounds criss-crossed on his massive chest, arms like beams, lean hips that sprouted a beautiful red cock with a giant helm.
“My god,” she praised the man, “let me take that in my mouth and give it a proper welcome.”
He came and climbed up on the chaise behind her. She could hear him suck his fingers into his mouth and insert them, once, twice into her ass. She groaned, did not move her hips, but waited for the next claiming.
“Shall I replace my fingers with my cock, my lovely?” he growled.
“This instant,” she commanded.
And he obeyed.
She opened her mouth. The shock of his girth, the delight of his thrust had her chat howling in exultation. The electric possession of his cock in her ass made her blind with excitement. “Take me,” she had been taught by her butler to invite Roger thusly. “Fuck me there.”
And so he did. A brilliant electric invasion of her ass by his huge iron rod. Over and over and over again, he rammed her and possessed her. She mewled for god knew how long and screamed with mad fulfilment.
His hands gripped her hips and rolled her to her back. Geoff was there immediately to lick her nipples. Bring them to wet points, soothe her, cool her down and let her cunt throb of its own accord in joy at the two men’s ingenuity..
She sighed.
Roger rose and went to the wash stand, cleansed his hands and returned to kneel between her open thighs.
“Will you put your mouth on my pussy, now, please, Roger?” she nigh unto begged him.
“I will, my sweet.” He slapped her thigh. “Open wider, pet.”
She hastened to do so. “Am I wet enough?”
Lady Featherstone's Fervent Affair Page 8