Saving Lady Ilsa

by Crystal Kauffman

  “Oh?”

  “We’ve decided that since it’s your first time,” Frederick volunteered, “you shan’t be expected to swallow.”

  “Ah.”

  Bradford stood in the center of the room. He glanced at the standing mirror and Ilsa knew he had positioned himself there precisely to see his reflection in the mirror. His and hers.

  “Are you ready?” Frederick tossed a pillow on the floor before him.

  “I am as ready as I will ever be.”

  He held out his hand. “Come. Kneel down.”

  She did, hitching up the skirt of her nightdress over her knees. Frederick sat on the floor beside them.

  “If at any time this goes beyond your comfort, you may ask to stop, or simply to rest. That will not mean you have failed the test.”

  “Ilsa, only you will judge if you succeed in each test or not,” Bradford cut in. “The fact that you attempt it is score enough for us.”

  Bradford’s hands hung by his sides. She grasped one and he returned her squeeze.

  “Remember that tonight is a learning experience,” Frederick told her. “You simply need to follow my instructions.”

  “As women are known for being horrid at polishing?” She giggled.

  “Hopefully you’ll learn to be an exception.” Frederick’s eyes twinkled with amusement. “Open his robe. Bare him.”

  She pulled the silk belt free and pushed the flaps of his robe open. Bradford was fully erect. Ilsa hadn’t thought tonight’s test to be particularly alluring, but now seeing him like this, her body grew warm. His organ was so beautiful. If there was a possibility she could learn to please him with her mouth, she relished the idea.

  “Give me the belt.”

  Frederick stood and moved behind her. He gathered her long hair into a mass and tied the silk strand around it, finishing it with a bow.

  “That’s better.” He went back to his knees beside her. She tingled with apprehension, mostly afraid of embarrassing herself in front of him. “Let’s begin.”

  She looked at him expectantly.

  “Touch him with your hands. Lightly, fingertips first. Stroke him with your palms.”

  Bradford issued a low moan of approval when she did.

  “It’s beautiful.” She gazed up at him. “You’re beautiful.”

  “Isn’t he though? Good girl, an extra point for saying so.”

  She traced the shaft with tented fingertips, examining the texture of his skin and the vein running through the underside. She’d never looked at a man’s penis like this. The up close view fascinated her. Even without her touch, it pointed straight up, the cap stretched taut and shiny, as big as a Fairies’ Bonnet mushroom.

  “Slide your finger up the length, yes, like that. The cleft there is extremely sensitive.”

  Her finger followed the natural valley in the underside of the tip. Bradford dragged in a breath.

  “Remember that spot later, with your tongue.”

  She would. She liked the reaction it elicited from Bradford.

  “Now down, with both hands. Cup his balls. Feel the way they move under his skin.”

  She followed his instructions, forcing a groan out of Bradford.

  “Bradford likes this especially. Keep this in mind if you ever want something. The way to Bradford’s heart is through his balls.”

  “Evil…little…sprite…” he ground out through clenched teeth.

  Ilsa smiled. She loved the friendly intimacy between them and delighted in being included.

  “Try a squeeze. Don’t be afraid to give them a tug.”

  She did both things. The skin here was like velvet and his testes felt like fragile bird eggs.

  “By the saints.” His fists clenched. His cock was throbbing in time with his heartbeat. She glanced up at him, eager to taste. She would definitely pass this test tonight.

  If she didn’t take him in her mouth soon, he would die.

  “Now grasp the shaft with your hand, like you did to me.”

  She did? This was a surprise. Instead of making him angry, the idea piqued him. Frederick had told him about their incident in the attic, but without the gritty details. Ilsa’s warm hand closed around him, robbing him of his next thought.

  “Squeeze it firmly. Don’t be afraid. That’s right, now pull him up and down.”

  Bradford hissed out an affirmation as the room began to spin.

  “Too rough?” she asked, peering up at him.

  “Not rough enough,” he bit out. “Ah yes, like that.”

  “I told you, Bradford has powerful needs.”

  “I believe—ah gad—the word you used—bloody hell—was picky.”

  “No talking,” Frederick admonished teasingly. “What do you think, Ilsa? Are you ready to lick him?”

  “God please!” He’d placed one hand on her head, he didn’t remember when, and his hips were thrust forward.

  “Yes.” Her warm breath caressed him. Without further instruction, she lapped with her tongue, lashing the sensitive valley of nerves where the folds of flesh met on the underside of his cock. Merciful God.

  “She’s a dutiful student,” Frederick said. “You should see this from my view. It’s a rather incredible sight.”

  Ilsa had either heard women talking, or surmised on her own that running her tongue along the ridge of his cock head would please him. He glanced in the standing mirror. The sight made him dizzy. Ilsa looked outrageously young with her flowing hair loosely tied back, sitting on her knees and lapping at his cock.

  I am an excellent judge of character indeed.

  “You’ll take him in your mouth next,” Frederick instructed. “Carefully guard your teeth. Suck the tip in like you would a spoon with a mound of confection.”

  When she pulled his cock into her warm, wet mouth, Bradford’s eyes rolled back in his head.

  “It’s not a ladylike task. The slobber, the sucking noises, your own moans adds to his pleasure.”

  She sighed on his cock, as if to affirm she heard.

  “The sound of a moan creates a wonderful buzz upon the head.”

  Ilsa may be innocent, but she showed no hesitation. She sucked him eagerly, clearly wanting to give pleasure.

  She’s like a wounded bird, he thought. She needs to be nursed back to the glory she’s capable of, and then she’ll soar. Bradford thanked the heavens he’d found her and was provided the opportunity to do so. And later he’d offer a special thank-you to Frederick for helping him.

  “Open your throat and take him deeper. Slowly now, let yourself get used to it.”

  Bradford refrained from thrusting with his hips. God, she was sending him out of this world.

  Ilsa sucked him down. Her head bobbed and glorious sucking sounds came from those pretty lips. He alternated between looking down and watching her in the mirror. He’d been right. The sight of her full lips stretched over his cock was a sight to behold.

  On her next swallow of his cock deep into her throat, she proved she’d been paying attention by cupping his balls and giving a squeeze.

  “Oh God, Ilsa I’m going to come.” He was surprised he’d held off this long.

  She grabbed his shaft with the other hand and worked him up and down while firmly cupping his balls with the other.

  “Ilsa!” Even as he tried to get her to stop, he couldn’t help but thrust his hips.

  His blood boiled and his balls exploded, and he spurted into her mouth. A gurgle escaped her throat, but she held onto him fast, her lips sealed around the engorged head and her hand pumping him dry. His cock and her hands were soaked with her saliva and now with his cum, but she didn’t recoil.

  “Oh God. Oh Ilsa, oh God.”

  “Good heavens,” Frederick said. He collapsed onto his arse.

  Ilsa released him and sat back. Her lips and chin were shiny with his cum, her cheeks flushed from the exertion. Tiny wisps of hair had escaped her ponytail. She looked wildly young and alluring. When she looked up at him and grinned, he threw bac
k his head and laughed.

  “Should I have stopped?” she asked timidly.

  “Only if you wanted to kill me.” Bradford staggered to the bed and collapsed on his back, arms thrown wide. He laughed again.

  “I’d say you passed,” Frederick said.

  With accommodations!

  Chapter Seven

  The day passed with as much ordinariness as the others, if Ilsa could consider any of them ordinary. Last night’s test had come with no apprehension. She’d not considered it particularly erotic until it had begun, so she hadn’t experienced any worry beforehand.

  Today was different. True, she’d already accepted Frederick inside herself once, but somehow the idea of Bradford watching changed everything.

  For one thing, she’d be completely naked. For another, she would be giving herself to Frederick, four years her junior, while her husband-to-be looked on.

  But mostly, the idea of bedding one man while another stood by watching renewed the fear she’d worked so hard to tamp down.

  When she’d first been tied down on that bare mattress in that dreary workshop, the two men had stood over the bed watching as the first, the oldest who seemed to be their leader, mounted her. They’d stared shamelessly, salivating like starving prisoners watching a meal being prepared. At first she’d been mortified, lying there spread open wide before the other two as the first stabbed himself in and out of her like a rutting dog. Then, when the second had climbed between her legs, she realized that watching the first had stoked him into a frenzy, and she’d learned true terror.

  The idea of lying before Bradford as his lover sought release in her body brought that terror alive all over again. What if Bradford decided he was jealous? What if he simply lost the ability to resist? What if his promise, and Frederick’s rules, ceased to matter for the stronger motivation of lust? She clasped her hands together and squeezed until her knuckles hurt.

  He wouldn’t. Already she knew him more intimately than she knew any other man, and had witnessed in him an integrity she’d never seen matched before.

  She looked at her reflection. The day dress was exquisite and her face looked somehow different.

  It was. She’d changed. She was a stronger woman now and she knew what she wanted.

  She wanted this life here with them so much.

  “I can do this,” she told herself. It was natural for her to be somewhat afraid. After all, this test was a step forward in the intensity of her tests. Frederick had chosen each task specifically to challenge her courage, yet in a small steps.

  A knock preceded Mary. “I’m sent to fetch ye, miss. The earl has arrived.”

  “Oh my.” This was a surprise. She turned back to the mirror. The dress was beautiful, but her hair was tied into a simple bun and she hadn’t explored any of the frivolous items Mary had procured for her. She had no idea how to stain her lips or add color to her cheeks properly, and feared she’d come away looking ghastly like a painted actress in a theater production.

  “You look very pretty, if I’n I might say so, miss.” Mary fidgeted.

  “Perhaps you could look on, and tell me if I use this properly.” Ilsa sat at her vanity and opened the small glass pot. Inside the waxy pink goo shimmered. She dabbed her pinky and smeared it on her lips. Mary showed her how to use the rabbit’s fur to add the pink powder to her cheeks. It formed bright crimson streaks.

  “Oh Mary, oh no!”

  “I’m not finished, miss. Ye do like this.” Smoothing with the fur side of the patch, the color blended and smoothed away until she was left with a slight tint of color that made her skin glow.

  “That is much better. However did you learn to do this?”

  “I told ye, Lady Constance was a frivolous type. She had more frills and baubles than any female’s got a right to, she did.” Mary stood back and surveyed her. “Nothing much we can do about yer hair now, but ye should ask Beatrice to give ye a cut. She knows all the fancy styles. Put some fluff into it.”

  She bumped her hip as she stood, rattling the vanity. “Thank you, Mary.”

  “Don’t be nervous. The earl is a kind one, as most of ‘em go.”

  The men’s voices were heard as she approached the drawing room. Ilsa took a deep breath and entered. “Good evening. Am I interrupting?”

  Bradford’s father had a thick shock of white hair. He turned, leaning on a cane, and his face warmed when he saw her.

  Bradford stood. “Father, my bride, Ilsa Bergstrom.”

  The earl kissed the back of her offered hand and held on to it, beaming. “So you’re the woman who’s finally got my Bradford to settle down. My, aren’t you pretty. I can see how you ensnared him, and aren’t I glad you did.”

  She smiled, immediately taken by him.

  “Father.” Bradford grinned.

  “Come, tell me all about yourself.” He urged her to the settee. “Have your man Havers pour some champagne. This is a day to celebrate! Now, are you certain you wish to marry in that little church? My son should marry in St. Catherine’s chapel.”

  “Perish the thought!” Bradford exclaimed. “Father, Ilsa doesn’t drink spirits in the middle of the day and I dare say we haven’t even had lunch yet. Furthermore, we both want a quiet, private affair here in Whiting, as we’re both so much happier here than in London.”

  “Ah, I agree, the flash and dash of London is best reserved for the young. But at least there, all of the family can attend.”

  “I’m quite certain Aunt Lucille will delight in the journey for the fabulous opportunity to complain.”

  His father erupted in laughter and Ilsa tittered beside him, still not sure if they were being reprimanded for the wedding plans that were one step shy of running off to Gretna Green.

  “I wish your mother were still alive,” the older man said, suddenly wistful. He shifted toward her on the seat. “She would have adored you, dear. Tell me, is your family expected?”

  “I’m afraid I am the last of my family,” she responded. “My sister died two years ago.”

  “Ilsa’s father was in textiles. A Norwegian importer. When he passed, she moved to London to be with her sister.”

  “I’m so sorry, dear. The world is a big, lonely place without any family to share it with. But alas, here you two go, embarking on a new family. What joy.”

  “I do hope so, your Lordship.” She smiled, already feeling like part of the family.

  “I suppose Bradford has told you all about us.”

  She glanced at him, not sure how to answer. Bradford wore a stoic expression. “I have. You know my motto, honesty is the best course.”

  The earl turned back to her and a new understanding filled his eyes. “And what a treasure you must be, accepting it all, all the while knowing it shan’t be Bradford who inherits.”

  She knew there were secretive undertones in each man’s statement. “I consider it a blessing, because his friendship and companionship are all that I want.”

  “Ah, the best kind of marriage. My Elizabeth was my truest confidant, and always knew what I was thinking before I did. I miss her so. Why, sometimes I forget and begin speaking to her as if she’s still here. That is how comfortable I was with her. When I realize again she’s gone, a wound reopens in my heart.”

  “Bradford has told me the most wonderful stories about her. Did she truly make the boys sit through dinner after accidentally dousing themselves with itching powder meant for their tutor?”

  The earl laughed. “They wouldn’t confess their prank, but she knew very well what they had done. You should have seen them twitching and squirming about, all the while claiming nothing was amiss.”

  “I see it was a mistake telling you that particular story,” Bradford cut in wryly.

  “If only she were alive now, she’d be so happy. We’d just about given up hope either boy would ever marry. At thirty-three, I’ll say better late than never. Why, Nolan is thirty-nine, with no prospects in the foreseeable future.”

  Ilsa cast a glan
ce to Bradford, who simply said, “Is it any wonder?”

  “I arranged two betrothals when he was younger, but Nolan managed to ruin both of them with his gambling and womanizing ways. Nowadays even the promise of a title isn’t enough to woo a family of means, given his reputation. Papas care too much about their daughters to marry them off to scoundrels. If I were a heartless old cad I’d find some brute willing to doom his daughter for the sake of a title and a pretty pound, but I don’t have it in me to condemn some young thing to such a fate. I still keep my hopes he’ll find someone on his own and true love will prevail.”

  Bradford snorted.

  “My father used to tell me everyone has a true love,” Ilsa said, feeling a melancholy tug to her heart. “Some of us just have to wait longer to find it. He also used to tell me the longer one had to wait for a reward, the sweeter it would taste.” She returned the soft gaze Bradford settled on her. “I know now, it’s true.”

  * * * * *

  It was late by the time the guests were comfortably stowed in their rooms and soft murmurs rose from the adjoining suite, telling her Bradford and Frederick had retired. Tonight she wore only the cream-colored silk wrapper as she waited at her vanity, playing with her hair. What could Beatrice do with her thin, straight locks? She ran her fingers through the curls caused by the twists of her bun. In an hour, they would be fallen flat again.

  Two soft raps sounded at the door. Ilsa rose and entered the boudoir.

  Frederick met her on the other side. He and Bradford had switched roles tonight, Frederick quite obviously bare beneath his robe and Bradford wearing full bed clothing under his. He sat in a deep reading chair, holding a book parted with his thumb.

  “It’s late, and you’ve had a trying day.” Frederick glanced over at Bradford. “We discussed it, and if you prefer to cancel tonight’s test—”

  “Not at all. I enjoyed visiting with the earl. He’s a charming fellow and I quite relish the idea of having him as family.”

  “Oh good,” Frederick said, visibly relieved. He straightened his shoulders. “I’ve been looking forward to this all day. In fact the knowledge of the night to come was all that got me through that infernal chitchat.”