A Shimmer of Silk
Page 6
"Excellent, so perhaps now we need to instigate a scale of awareness. One is little sensation, ten is high, almost untenable, but not pain. Sauf is stop. Do you understand?"
Why does he feel the need to question my ability to understand him? Although Deborah realized Oliver was safety conscious to the nth degree, it irked her he had so little faith in her comprehension. Nevertheless she answered him in the affirmative.
There was the muted sound of a chair being dragged across the carpet. With her head hanging low, her hair was obscuring her vision somewhat, but she saw him sit.
He pushed her legs wide to touch each base pole of the bench. "Place them next to your hands, love. That is a sight I will never grow tire of. Your arse presented to me, open and ready for my cock to fill. Your breast showing themselves, your nipples hard and ready to be nipped and nibbled. Your cunt…" Two long fingers slipped inside her slit and scissored. "Ah, wet and demanding attention. 'Tis so beautiful to see it devoid of curls, bare and glistening with the evidence of your awareness of me. My fingers are drenched, taste." He thrust his fingers into her mouth. She tasted her essence and her body responded by producing more. His other hand nipped and soothed her nether lips, slipping in and out of her cunt to stroke her mound. His body leaned against her, holding her in place, the warmth of his skin washing over her, the scent of him filling her…
The sharp graze of the knife crashed through her sensual haze and she screamed. Not in pain, in mind blowing pleasure.
Chapter Nine
Knife in hand, Oliver recognized the sound for what it was. Arousal so deep, so sweet, it made his cock tighten with anticipation. Carefully he traced the lines of the Chinese character he had chosen to etch on her shoulder. It had taken many long months to hone this art, to scratch without breaking the skin, to produce pleasure and markings that were finite in their existence.
With each scrape of his knife, she moaned, and gasped. Her arousal showed on her gleaming legs. Her skin was rosy as if he had issued one hundred taps to it. It was one of the most magnificent sights he had ever experienced.
"Your number for pleasure?" He reminded her as he essayed a down-stroke across her shoulder blade.
"Nine. Tis amazing. Pain is four."
"Did I ask for your pain level?" he asked in a mild tone, secretly pleased she had offered the information without prompting.
"No, My Lord, but I wanted you to know. I am wet and I yearn for more. Of all and everything."
He vouchsafed no reply, but finished his final knife stroke. "There, I have inscribed my mark on you. It will sting but briefly, remain no more than a day or two, but it will remain in my memory for ever." He put his hands under her arms and stood her up, sweeping her hair to fall over one shoulder. "Come to the mirrors, I will angle them for you to see."
Would she see the beauty in his art? The flowing curves, the sharp angles, the faint red lines caressing her pale skin? Oliver was a perfectionist in his work and there in front of him he saw perfection personified, albeit it briefly. He traced the outlines gently.
"Oh, My Lord, tis glorious. What does it mean?" Deborah turned one way and another, he judged to see his work from all angles.
"It is the basic symbol for my heart is yours, to do with as you choose."
She burst into tears.
"Deborah? Sweet one, it is fine. It will go. Soon there will be no marks, nothing." In one swift movement he threw the knife to the floor where it stuck quivering. “It is over, destroyed. I will do the same with the others." His heart broke in two as he said the words, but for her it was but a small price to pay.
He nuzzled her neck and stroked her arms, careful not to touch the marks on her skin. To his surprise she stamped her foot hard on his. Unshod as she was it made little impact except to startle him.
"I want the marks. I want them. I want them." It was hard to distinguish her words through her sobs. "I feel alive, part of you, yours for ever. It is such sweet torture, sweet teasing, and sweet pleasure. I would not want to think I will never experience such joy again. And why I do not know." She stamped her foot again. "You are an imbecile if you did not know how your touch aroused me." In her agitation she had slipped into French, and it seemed had not noticed. "Do you not have eyes to see my arousal coat my legs? Feel my skin shiver, my body redden with your touch? Pah, I know not what to say." She glared at him.
He quelled his bourgeoning cock and compelled his lips not to twitch. "I suggest you say, ‘I beg your pardon, My Lord.’ Unless you wish me to spank your arse until you will be hand pressed to sit for a week. As it is, I will need to fuck your arse to bring us both to climax, for you will not wish to press on your mark too soon."
"Hmm,” she spun round and faced him. "I do beg your pardon, my Lord. My sentiments were from the heart, but I should perhaps have couched them in a more polite direction?"
Minx. She has obeyed me but in what a manner. He had to laugh. It seemed his life was in line for a change for the better. "I think perhaps you should, my love. Shall we seal our alliance in the tried and tested manner?"
"With a kiss?"
"Nothing so ordinary; with a fuck. As your back will not bear weight?” He raised an eyebrow. "Kneel on the bed, face the headboard. Spread your legs and rest your head on your arms." She gave him a startled look but did as he asked. He moved behind her and rubbed his cock over her crack, teasing her hole, and letting his pre cum drip onto her.
"How enticing your arse is, love. Shall I fill you there? Push into your depths as I finger your cunt? Listen to you pant, and scream your completion?"
She wriggled her arse at him.
"Is that a yes?"
"If it pleases you, My Lord. In truth I am eager for all we may achieve together." That was the answer he wanted. His pre cum increased and he used the natural lubricant to coat himself. He slipped his hand between her legs to gather the liquid gathered there and rub it over the entrance to her anus.
"Ohh, Oliver, 'tis so good, I ache to feel you in me." In her aroused state her formal address was forgotten. It didn't matter; she wanted him. That was all that mattered.
"Relax now, it will hurt at first, I will not lie. Breathe through the pain, yes nice and slowly, love. That's ohh so good." He crooned into her ear as slowly, he pushed into her depths. "Now." He had to thrust to get past the tight ring of muscles guarding her secrets.
She panted and twisted. "Ah, it hurts. No, no … I can't … ohhh, Oliver…" She relaxed and tensed in a totally different way as the pain he had inflicted must have changed to pleasure. "Ah, this is … ten for pleasure, more than that, no pain, just pleasure so deep tis hard to describe. Come in me, please, please fill me. Let me feel your cum."
Never was a demand so easy to comply with even though she would need to be chastised later. He thrust hard, once twice, and pinched her nub as he did so. His cock filled and shuddered his climax with a roar as she convulsed around his hand, with mewls and screams.
"Lord, love, if we mesh like that each time we couple I will need to increase my stamina. It was something I have never before experienced." She giggled and his cock slid out of her with more ease than he could have hoped for. It seemed she was at ease with his cock filling her—or not.
"Stretch out and rest whist I cleanse myself and then attend to your needs.
She nodded and he heard her yawn. He'd wager she would be asleep before he returned.
He would have won the bet; her head was still cradled on her arms, her breathing deep and even.
As he stood next to her, debating whether to use his warm damp cloth on her arse or not she stirred and rolled over onto her back. He had no time to warn her, and her wince shocked him to the core. He had failed in his duty of care by not stopping her in time.
"Ouch, I forgot. No matter, it is but a small pain to endure for such pleasure. I only wish it was for ever. Not that I will not relish each and every time you inscribe our love onto me, but I would wish for something for all time."
"You mean
that? Let me mark you, Deborah? Let me ink it it onto you where only us know of it? It will be as binding as any wedding ring."
Her smile lit up her face. "You need to ask? Oh, My Lord, it would be my pleasure. Except..." She worried her lip with her top teeth.
"Except? " He prompted her gently.
"Will you wear our mark?"
"But of course, with pride. Felton is almost as good a body scribe as I. We will ask him. If you want we can do this formally with him and Ara as witnesses. And Luc if you so desire?"
She sat up and rested her hands on his arms.
"My Lord, I would like that more than anything in the world. Luc is all I have of my old life."
He kissed her nose, and when she giggled, placed teasing, tickling kisses over her cheeks, before taking her mouth with all the passion inside him.
She reciprocated until they pulled apart panting and breathless. Deborah rested her head on his shoulder. It felt right to him.
"Happy, love?"
She sighed. "Oh so much, but I have one worry. I have a locket, it is said to belong to ma mere. Inside, is a lock of hair and a scrap of paper with a faintly written name inscribed there."
"And my lovely romantic, you wish to decipher the name and trace the owner of the hair? We will do, tomorrow."
"Ah no, I know what it says." Her body tensed beside him. "Oliver, in the audience tonight … who was Willingham?"
Epilogue
Jeremy Lord Willingham stared at the miniature in his hand. He passed it from one palm to the other, his drink unheeded on the table beside. The library was usually his haven but not tonight.
Outside the wind whistled around the corner of the house, blocking out the sound of the watch on his beat, and the clatter of carriages over the cobbles.
The fire burned low as he sat searching his mind. The face seemed familiar. Where had he seen it before? Somewhere recent he was certain.
The door opened.
"What have you there?"
Silently he passed the miniature to his companion.
"Why do you have a picture of her?"
The End
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