by Ava Sinclair
“Hello, my little vixen!” he said, picking her up and swinging her around. After carefully setting her back down on her feet, he led her to a table in the corner of the room where she’d been writing to her mother. He glanced down at the letter written on the distinctive vellum Holloway purchased for all Darmley correspondence. In careful script, Amelia had been writing of the weather, and of the enjoyment of her new life. Now he took the chair opposite her, watching with some amusement as she fidgeted in her seat.
A raised eyebrow was all it took to stop Amelia from squirming, but the reason behind her inability to sit still had Garrett’s cock moving as well. As much as he’d enjoyed burying himself to the hilt in her delectably tight pussy, he was eager to claim her ass as well. The morning after their night of lovemaking had seemed the perfect time to begin training his bride-to-be for the claiming of her second virginity.
He told her this would take place on their wedding night. The plug he put in her tight little bottom hole was the first of several he planned to insert, each larger than its predecessor, in preparation for his cock.
She’d been understandably nervous when he’d bent her over that morning; the last time she’d seen such a plug was the day Miss Steadwell had punished the maid. At first, Amelia had begged to know what she’d done to displease him. But Garrett had explained that plugging her bottom—like spanking—could be used for correction or pleasure. His little one had seemed skeptical, but when he’d played with her pussy while pressing the rounded end of the plug against her twitching orifice, she’d soon begun to moan.
Garrett had found the sight of the plug’s flanged head between cheeks still splotchy from punishment to be highly arousing, and would have taken her a third time were he not scheduled to have breakfast with his mother. But now that he was back with his little beloved, there was nothing to rush him away, which pleased him, because he had a very special surprise planned for Amelia. When he told her this, her green eyes grew wide.
“Really? What?”
“Something special,” he said, pulling his pocket watch from his vest and looking at it as footsteps sounded in the hall. “In fact, I believe it’s arriving now. Cover your eyes, my dear.”
Amelia obeyed, and as she stood obediently waiting with her hands over her eyes, Garrett guided two strong men in delivering a very special present to the middle of the room. When the door shut, he told her she could look.
“Oh, my… it’s… so beautiful!” Amelia was circling the life-sized rocking horse, admiring the exquisite detail. It was as big as a large pony, its magnificent neck proudly arched beneath a mane of real horsehair. The large glass eyes shone in the noble face. It wore a real bridle, the metal bit visible in its open mouth. The horse was a mahogany bay, with dark legs and black hooves.
Heavy wooden rockers underneath its hooves supported the horse. Amelia tapped one with her foot, and the horse rocked back and forth, its bobbed tail bouncing with the motion.
“I can’t believe this,” she said. “It looks so real!”
“It was modeled after an actual pony I used to own,” Garrett told her. “His name was Prince, and my parents had this commissioned after he passed away. He was my greatest treasure, and has spent lonely years in the attic waiting for a new friend. Your arrival prompted me to have him restored. He’s yours, but for a very special purpose. Prince is going to teach you to ride.”
She smiled at this. “My lord, I already know how to ride…”
“Oh, my dear, this is a very different kind of riding lesson.” He nodded to a box on the floor that she’d not noticed. “Open it.”
Amelia walked over and knelt down to lift the lid. Inside was a saddle, but nothing like she’d ever seen before. Garrett watched as she stared at the leather seat with the leather phallus jutting from its middle. When she looked at him questioningly, he removed the saddle from the box and placed it on the rocking horse. He tightened the girth and after testing to make sure the saddle was secure, turned to his betrothed.
“What did Miss Steadwell tell you when you got dressed this morning?”
Amelia flushed a charming shade of scarlet as she answered. “She told me not to wear undergarments today.”
“Yes,” he said. “Because I instructed her to tell you that. And tell me, my little vixen. Have you been thinking of me this morning?”
She flushed even deeper and nodded.
“And has it made your little pussy wet with need?”
“Oh, my lord…” She caught her little lower lip with her teeth, and he laughed at her demure response.
“It is perfectly natural, for my cock has been hard just thinking of you. But before I put it in you again, I plan to train you to ride me as you ride a horse.”
He lifted her up then, sitting her on the saddle behind the phallus.
“I’m to ride astride?” she asked, for like most ladies Amelia was used to a sidesaddle.
“Yes, because you will ride astride me. But I want you to be skilled in the motion for the sake of both our pleasure.” He moved the skirt of her dress aside until he could see the mound of her pussy pressed against the saddle. “Are you wet?”
“Yes, papa,” she said.
He smiled. “Good. Then lift yourself up and lower yourself on the phallus.”
For a moment, he wondered if she would obey, but then she did as he asked, standing in the short stirrups until she was positioned over the leather appendage. Garrett felt his cock grow rock hard as the smooth leather disappeared into her pussy. He groaned at the sight.
“Now,” he said thickly. “When you ride a horse, you move with the motion, do you not?” He pushed down on the runner and the horse began to rock. Amelia gasped and then moaned as the leather cock began to move in and out of her.
“That’s it. That’s a good girl,” he coached. “Move up and down. Find the rhythm that feels best. Position yourself in a manner that touches the spot inside that makes you scream.”
The shy, embarrassed girl disappeared as Amelia’s wanton nature was triggered by his words and the motion of the horse. She began to move up and down, back and forth, and Garrett knew when she threw back her head and began to jog up and down on the leather cock that she’d discovered that place inside her pussy that triggered an intense internal orgasm.
Amelia gripped the sides of the horse tightly with her legs, pushing her bare feet down in the stirrups. Her hands clutched the reins, and the horse continued to move back and forth as she cried out in rapture.
Reaching up, Garrett gently lifted her from the phallus and the saddle, which were both now coated in her sweet arousal. She was still moaning, and he wanted her more desperately than he’d ever wanted anything in his life.
“Oh, my little one,” he said. “My passionate little Amelia. Your papa is so pleased by how well you ride your pretty horse.” Cradling her in his arms, he carried her to a nearby chair and sat down, positioning her so that she straddled his lap. “Do you want to ride your papa now?”
He was undoing her dress as he spoke and pushing it over her shoulders to cup her sweet breasts. He kissed one tip and then the other as she moaned and wound her slim fingers in his hair, pulling him closer. Her legs were on either side of his hard thighs and he reached under her, the heat of her pussy warm against his hand, to free his cock. Amelia rose up and impaled herself upon it almost greedily, and he laughed at her eagerness.
“My little lady seems eager to ride her stallion,” he said, thrusting upward, his hands possessively gripping her ass. She came almost immediately, her first orgasm threatening to unman him as her inner contractions milked his cock. It was all Garrett could do to hold off, his hands squeezing her bottom as he took control of her motion, moving her up and down despite her protests over his decision to set the pace. But she was soon moaning again as he tipped his hips forward and moved her rapidly, knowing his cock was again rubbing that sensitive sweet spot just behind her pubis. The action drove her wild, and she threw her head back, trailing her lon
g chestnut tresses down past his knees. Garrett decided at that moment he’d never seen anything more wild or beautiful than his alluring woman-child awakening to the fullness of her passion. The seed was all but roiling in his balls, which drew up tight as his milky tribute coursed through his cock and shot into her. He closed his eyes as he pulled her close, imagining the day the act would plant a baby there. Amelia did not know that Miss Steadwell’s special cleansing recipe contained herbs to temporarily prevent pregnancy. He’d never thought he’d want a child, but decided then that he could imagine a little girl or boy with wide eyes and chestnut hair.
But not yet.
For now he would enjoy Amelia as his little mate, his little plaything. Everything was coming together. Nothing would stand in their way.
Chapter Eleven: A Cryptic Message
Amelia had not expected to hear from her parents so soon after writing. Even though the letter delivered by a household maid did not have an address, who else could have sent it? The script was not immediately recognizable, but that hardly surprised her; they were forever working on their penmanship.
Miss Steadwell was downstairs seeing to some garments that were supposed to come up with the wash but didn’t. She’d grumbled at the incompetence of whatever maid could have misplaced Amelia’s dress and underthings for the third time in a fortnight.
“At this rate you’ll need a new wardrobe,” she fumed before heading downstairs. “Holloway will hear of this, and no mistake.” Amelia smiled as she settled into the alcove with her letter. She would not want to be whatever poor servant found responsible for the missing clothes.
Amelia smiled as she headed to the alcove with her letter, tucking her slippered feet underneath her as she settled into the window seat. She carefully broke the wax seal and unfolded the paper.
But her smile disappeared as she began to read.
My Dear Lady Chesterfield, the letter read. I send you this letter at grave risk to myself. You have enemies here at Darmley Hall, those who knows your secret and who mean to use it to disgrace you and the Darmley family should you marry. I fear to divulge in this letter the names of those who mean you harm, but one is a very trusted member of the staff. They know everything about you and are planning to divulge your sins to the world. You think your dalliance with the gardener, Royce, has been covered up. It was not.
Royce. Just seeing the name of the gardener brought her nearly to swooning. Whoever had sent the letter was within the house. She realized that now as she recognized the Darmley stationery. What’s more they had intimate knowledge of her past and meant to use it against her. But who? She continued to read through a blur of tears.
I believe I can put a stop to this before it goes any further, but I need your assistance. Please let me help you. Meet me by the carriage house tomorrow night at nine. Come alone. Tell no one. Trust no one. If those seeking to ruin you find me out, I may be ruined as well. I take a grave risk in bringing this to your attention, but I do not want to see this family ruined.
Her hands were shaking as she continued to stare down at the unsigned note. She looked quickly at the front again, seeking to find some clue as to its sender. But there was none. Rising from the window seat, she hurriedly secreted the note inside a book on her shelf.
Her first impulse after that was to seek out her governess. But then she recalled one particular line of the note:
I fear to divulge in this letter the names of those who mean you harm, but one is a very trusted member of the staff.
Amelia was young, but she was not entirely naïve. She knew those below stairs had their own pecking order, their own set of politics. Darmley had a reputation for exercising tight control over their serving staff, which was known for its discretion. But anyone could break ranks given the right motivation, and someone had.
What if it were Miss Steadwell? She began to pace. She couldn’t imagine that the woman she’d come to know as a second mother would be so cruel, but she couldn’t discount it either. The woman was a recent hire; what if she had some unknown axe to grind? If she were wrong and confided in anyone, then the unknown sender of the letter—the one person who’d cared enough to warn her—might be harmed.
Amelia began to feel the return of guilt that had fled under Garrett’s loving care and discipline. The people who targeting her weren’t just a threat to her; they were also a threat to the man she loved, the man who’d taken her in. The Darmleys were a great family, but even great families did not welcome scorn. The thought that she would bring it on all of them by marrying Garrett was almost too much to bear.
She wondered if she should warn him—perhaps have him go with her. But the note had specifically said she should come alone. There had to be a reason; perhaps the servant wanted to remain anonymous. That would make sense, especially if whoever was behind this plan held power over the staff. Could it be Holloway? With each speculation, she began to feel more isolated and alone, the cocoon of security unraveling with each passing moment.
When Miss Steadwell came back in, still grumbling about the missing clothing, Amelia moved back to the alcove and stared out the window. In the distance she could see the Darmley estate chapel, its stone spire rising into the grey November sky. She thought of the planned wedding, just a week away now. With each day her excitement had grown, with each plugging at Garrett’s hands she’d felt closer to giving him the virginity of her bottom.
“You’ve grown quiet.” Miss Steadwell said. “Are you feeling unwell, dear?” She walked over and put a cool hand to Amelia’s forehead. Amelia involuntarily recoiled from the touch.
“Amelia!” The governess stared down at her. “Whatever is wrong? You’re trembling!”
“I’m fine,” Amelia said. “Just tired.”
“You had a cleansing yesterday, so you can’t be binding up.” The governess studied her charge. “You aren’t feverish.”
Amelia looked back out the window. Her mind was still on the note and it suddenly occurred to her that she didn’t know where the carriage house even was. She turned back to Miss Steadwell, keeping her tone as casual as possible.
“Could we go for a walk? I think some fresh air would help.”
“It’s cool today for a walk…”
“Please?”
The governess smiled. “Very well. Let’s get you dressed.”
Amelia remained quiet while she was dressed and bundled into a cloak with a fox fur collar and given a fox fur muff to warm her hands. As she rubbed her cheek against it, she was reminded of how Garrett called her his vixen. She wondered at the fate of the animal. One moment, running wild and free and the next minute utterly destroyed. She felt a terrible sense of foreboding.
“Miss Steadwell, I don’t want to wear these.” She pulled her hands from the muff almost frantically and then shrugged off the cloak, stepping away as they fell.
The governess looked shocked. “What on earth has gotten into you, Amelia?” She snatched the discarded things off the floor. “Your papa had these made just for you!”
“I don’t care!” Amelia said. “I don’t like the fur. That poor fox! To be so trapped and afraid…” She began to sob openly and the governess’ stern face softened.
“I’ll put it back, then,” Miss Steadwell said. “I’ll even have the seamstress remove the fur if you like.” She walked back over to the wardrobe and selected another cloak, this time with matching wool mittens. Amelia stood woodenly while these replaced the ones she’d rejected.
She said little more as they walked from the house, feeling once again robbed by the weight of the letter. It was the perfect fall day, and she knew she should have been enjoying her first chance to explore some of the estate. But instead, she was gripped by anxiety as she tried to memorize the location of the carriage house, which she learned was by the stable yard off the back of the huge manor. To get a closer look, she asked to see the horses. Miss Steadwell was feeling indulgent and took Amelia to the stable, where a stable boy gave her sugar cubes to feed Blue a
nd the other mounts stabled there.
“It’s going to be a harsh winter.” Miss Steadwell pulled the black coat tight around her sturdy frame as she looked up at the sky as they walked back later. “The folk in the country will have a tough time of it—farmers and the like. But you’ll be warm within Darmley Hall. Such a lucky lass, to be so cared for.”
Amelia would have normally agreed; a few days earlier, Garrett had spoken of their first Christmas together and she’d allowed herself to imagine the house decorated for the holiday, the joy of sleigh rides and of warm fires and presents and all the other things he’d talked of. Now a different scenario plagued her—merry lights mocking a family finding that their name did not put them above scorn, her husband standing by the window, worry etched into his handsome brow as he struggled to come to terms with the mistake he’d made of marrying her.
She knew she’d be blameless since he’d taken her knowing of her past, taken her even over her own objections. But did it matter? How could Garrett love her if every time he looked at her he saw disgrace? Her marriage to Garrett Darmley would be no happier than a marriage to Hamish Foxcroft. If anything, it would be worse because she would live each day knowing her very existence was an uncomfortable burden.
But perhaps there was hope. She had enemies at Darmley Hall. But she obviously also had a friend, someone who wanted to help. She would only find out when she met the person responsible for sending the note, and that would not happen until the following evening.
“We should probably go back inside.” Her governess had grown as quiet as Amelia as they’d strolled. “His lordship will be eager to see you. I hope you will be feeling less taciturn when we return home.”
“Miss Steadwell?” Amelia stopped. “Do you think he’d be terribly upset if I didn’t receive him this evening?”