by Thea Devine
"That's for him to say, my lady. It is only for me to give you this veil which you will wear over your hair and face— thusly...."
"And why is that?" Jenise demanded as she allowed Mrs. Wilton to pull the black lace veil over her head and obscure her face.
"So my lord can concentrate solely on your naked body, my lady."
"And how will we be presented to him, Mrs. Wilton?"
"All together this morning, and then one by one as he chooses."
"I see." Yes, she saw. More turmoil between Innocenta and Virtuosa, especially when they would see each other naked. So she must find some way that he would choose her first. And then, she must keep him so occupied, he would not have time for the others.
She was dreaming; what did she know about seduction and how to fascinate a man like Wick who had seen everything, done everything, and had seduced everything that moved?
"Come."
She slipped her feet into the booties and followed Mrs.
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Wilton out into the hall, down the steps, into a salon with a half-dozen sofas scattered around.
"Wait for my ladies and my lord here."
There were mirrors all around, and for the first time, she saw herself as Wick would see her. Saw that her features were obscured by the lace veil, which made her body that much more prominent. Saw the drift of lace on her thigh that emphasized what was between her long legs. Saw her flat belly, her round full breasts, her nipples, rosy and pebble hard with excitement.
Everything Wick would see, everything Wick would want.
And more. Whatever more might be ...
What struck her forcibly was that she was not appalled by this. Not unnerved or nauseated. She wanted never to dress again. She was stunned to the point of breathlessness by her reaction: she loved being naked. She loved the waiting and the anticipation. Nothing about being naked disgusted her, only the circumstances, only why.
But it was her own choice; she must never forget that, even if she had discovered something about herself that totally confounded her.
"Ah. Chaste."
Damn, Innocenta ...
"Look at our Chaste. Not so chaste, is she?"
Jenise watched her in the mirror, mincing toward her in the heeled booties and lace veil. Slender was the word for Innocenta, but rounded in the hips and fuller in the breast than Virtuosa's words might have anyone believe. Her bush was blonde, as was she, and not nearly as full as Jenise's. She had chosen to wear the lace band around her neck, and she exuded a sensual confidence that was almost intimidating.
"Well, you strip down very well, Chaste. I would not have thought. Of course, your breasts sag just a little, and your pubic hair—you must have that trimmed—men don't like to taste a mouthful of hair when they come to get you there. Turn around—turn around ... you'll do, I suppose, if he must make
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a meal of contenders before he chooses me.... And now, our Virtuosa ... look at how her nipples turn down toward the floor, and how wide her hips are. Well, there are men who admire such things. Oh? Is there a little pouch to her belly? A thickness in the thighs? She did well to place her lace on her arms, which draws attention to her bosom; her bush would not do—there is such a thing as too little hair— Oh, I cannot look any longer ..." And Innocenta turned away to seat herself on one of the sofas.
And there she sat, rubbing her breasts, adjusting her lace veil, stroking her thighs while Jenise and Virtuosa looked everywhere else.
Surely, Jenise thought, this was not the point, that they should play with themselves while he watched from some other room. But she ought not discount anything perverted when it came to Wick. Everything was possible, even that.
I am no match for them. I cannot compete—
Or is he testing our imaginations?
Virtuosa seemed to think so too—for suddenly she chose a couch and began preening and posing.
And now Jenise must, whether she wanted to or not. What to do when it was only your naked body you must entertain? And his eyes, hiding in the shadows.
Waiting for them to do what?
Ellingham admired your pubic hair; it is not a far cry to think Wick might do the same...
She lifted her right leg onto a couch and began massaging her thigh, stroking closer and closer to her mound, running her fingers delicately through her bush, cupping herself there, and knowing he watched, slipping her fingers into her cunt to feel the seductive wet heat that he already foraged with his long penetrating fingers.
It was too easy to imagine a shadow-lover watching, melting, aroused beyond forebearance as three naked virgins posed and postured in an effort to seduce him.
It would take nothing at all to seduce Wick.
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There was something in that thought... She stilled her hand and shot a covert look at Innocenta who was on her hands and knees, stretching like a cat.
So desperate... so sure when nothing was certain about what Wick really wanted ...
Yes, yes—
She couldn't be like them. Even if it cost her a proposal, she could not be like them.
Exactly. Not like them.
Her heart started pounding. She would change the rules of the game. One of his chosen virgins would not be the fawning exhibitionist he expected her to be. Would not be so free to expose all of herself to him. Would have some backbone, some mettle. Would make him come to her.
Would make him work for it, damn it, work for her—whatever that might mean.
He could expel her from the mansion in a minute, Jenise thought, with some dismay as she considered the ramifications. You didn't play with a man like Wick, who fully expected everything he desired to be laid at his feet at his command.
But how else to differentiate between them, when they were masked, when they were so much the same in all ways, and only their naked bodies were on display?
No more display. She sat primly at the edge of the couch, her arms crossed over her breasts. She felt breathless at this bold move, her heart felt like it would pound right out of her chest. She was taking an enormous risk now. To flaunt the rules of Wick's game. To demand that he come for her.
She knew he was watching, but what did he see that was any different from any other woman he had fucked in his long career? A naked body would hold no novelty for him. He must, in all his years of debauchery, have seen every size, shape, coloration there ever was. So it could not only be her body that must attract him.
Dear Lord, this was crazy. Anyone would say it was beyond all reason to flout his authority, his wishes. But so she would
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do, because there was no other way: she must be the one who was different, the one who piqued his interest, she must be the one who took the trick.
She took a deep breath to steady herself. There was no turning back the moment she spoke. "And where is Wick?" She was amazed her voice wasn't shaking. "Why do we wait and pretend to be puppets, when I fully expected he would have come among us and chosen one of us to play with?"
Her words echoed in the high-ceilinged room, and Innocenta and Virtuosa paused in their posing, shocked.
"Excellent," Innocenta whispered. "Keep going, Chaste. Learn that a man like Wick abhors a brassy mouth."
"If Wick does not wish to avail himself of my naked body, Mr. Ellingham has offered his services. He tells me he likes a bushy mound." Jenise looked down at herself. "And indeed, I do believe I qualify."
"Enough!" No mistaking Wick's bellow from close by. "Ellingham, you bastard... I'll make you suck your own cream if you've been propositioning my virgins—"
He came striding out from the near end of the room. "Where is the bitch who dares to command me?"
As if it weren't easy to tell, with Innocenta arching her back and spreading her legs wide, and Virtuosa cupping her breasts as if she were offering them to him now he had come in person.
Jenise sat, as tense and tight as
if she were at a tea party, her hands folded on her lap, and waited.
"Ah, our Chaste," Wick sneered. "Who hides her bush even as she claims men lust after it. Ever a revelation, our Chaste. Never did I think my fingers could penetrate a virgin so deeply. Such heat, such elasticity to take my fingers like that. But is there gratitude today? No. Our Chaste instead makes demands. Our Chaste, having forgotten she came willingly to vie for my affections, now thinks she is in command. It is ever so with virgins—they give a man a taste of their bodies, and then they all think they can exert control."
He was but inches from her, and he tilted her veiled face up
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to his. "There is no control, honey-cunt. There is only my will and my desire."
Now—now—the greatest risk of all—
"And yet you are here."
The words hung in the air with a pulse all their own. But Wick was not a man who caved to provocation.
"Indeed, to show you what one ungrateful mouthy virgin will be missing." He started stripping, one item at a time, while Innocenta and Virtuosa panted, until he had divested himself of every piece of clothing, right before their eyes, and stood before Jenise naked, except for one thing: a leather scrotum pouch from which his penis angled like a jutting rock.
He grasped the shaft and moved himself closer to her, his penis almost directly level with her lips. If he had thought to shock her yet again, he had not.
This was the essence of a man. This proud, hard object of desire, endlessly throbbing with the insatiable need to possess the most intimate and deepest part of a woman ...
Yes, yes—that made such sense. Where his fingers had penetrated, this thick, long, hard shaft would follow, would fill her in a way no other part of him could.
She felt no fear of it. She wanted to touch it, caress it. Her mouth watered with a swamping desire to enfold it.
She felt her body seize up, as if it, independent of her mind and her will, were readying itself for that inevitable reaming.
She swallowed her fear. She was too far gone with him already; the risk had not paid off, and it only remained for him to banish her. She had nothing to lose. Nothing at all.
"And indeed, what Wick will be missing," she dared to murmur, still unable to keep her eyes off of his massive manhood.
She heard him growl and she looked up at him. His eyes glittered in his dark, impassive face.
Elusive—
"Take me ..." Innocenta whispered loudly behind her.
Remove yourself...
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"No, me..." Virtuosa panted. "The very sight of you makes me weak with longing ..."
Wick heard them, Jenise was certain he heard every urgent word, things he must have heard a thousand times and more from a thousand different women of every shape and bent. And not a word that would dissuade him from his course.
Yet his eyes never left her face, all the while Innocenta and Virtuosa moaned and begged him to come and mount them.
"Ellingham! Take those two away ..."
Ellingham entered swiftly, as Innocenta and Virtuosa started shrieking and crying. "You'll have your turn," he murmured consolingly. "He means to try you all out equally before any decision is made; do hush and not let him see you in such a temper. Come, I will comfort you both, as you desire..."
That sotto voce promise sent Jenise's imagination reeling.
"He may fuck them to oblivion," Wick said unfeelingly. "And I will drown myself in his juices after. It is all of a piece between friends. But you—Chaste ... you offer some amusement in your naive, naked way. I mind how deeply my fingers penetrated your cunt, your innocent pleasure in my finger fucking, and the taste of your rash tongue, and only for that do you escape my wrath at your brazen mouthing-off.
"Now"—he positioned himself before her, so that his penis pushed at her lips—"take my penis head into your mouth, and honey-suck your tongue all over it."
She licked her lips. Things I'll never tell. Never have to tell...
Dear Lord, he was so big, so thick and long—How did one do this?
She lifted the veil just above her lips so that all he would see was her mouth closed over his penis head; and with no qualm or hesitation, she pulled it between her teeth, and started lapping it with fairy-light licks.
He didn't think he could get any harder, but the sight of her virgin's mouth working him so urgently was so arousing, he almost came. "Harder, Chaste ..." He pushed himself against
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her mouth, grinding himself in deeper, demanding she eat as much of him as she could hold.
Not that deep—she would choke; a little panicked, she pressed her lips tightly around his shaft to contain him, and then began sucking at him for all she was worth.
That was the way—his hips undulated to the motions of her tongue, to the unconscious little sounds at the back of her throat, to the innocence of the way she pulled and tugged and sucked at his penis.
This, this, this ...
A novelty, this—he had been sucked up by the most experienced of whores and the most elevated of virgins who had learned early on to use oral congress to get what they wanted.
But never in recent memory had he been sucked off by a naked virgin such as this, this—he had nothing with which to characterize her. She was here to be chosen, and yet she acted as if being chosen was the last thing she wanted.
Her mouth was unskilled, but it was as thrilling to be swallowed by her as any courtesan.
He felt himself bubbling up as she began pulling at him hard, hard, hard. He wanted to ram himself into her mouth, but it was such an inexperienced mouth....
Hell and horns, when did he ever have compunction for any woman? Damn her eyes—oh, but that lush, hot tongue—those moans ...
He thrust his hips, perfectly aware he was connected to her solely by his penis head and her grasping lips. There was something very eronc about that, as if she had the control of him and not the other way around.
But soon, too soon, he would blow—
All his resolutions to hoard his cream until that one explosive moment when he would ... would ...
No! The game must be played until he could not contain one exquisite drop of come—and then, and only then ...
He wrenched himself out of her mouth, leaving a smear of his ejaculate for her to taste on her tongue.
"No, not yet, succulent Chaste. I have much more of your
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naked body to plow before you get any reward from my penis."
She licked her lips and he followed the movement avidly. Such an innocent gesture. Such an eager tongue. Who was she? Why didn't he know her? What was it about her?
"That was but a small taste of the cream that will saturate and soak your honey cunt. When you earn it. When I decide you deserve it."
She drew herself up. "I deserve it now. I wanted to eat all of it, Wick; why would you, of all people, stop me from swallowing every last drop of your come?"
He felt a flash of—what, anger? For that audacious mouth that only wanted to eat his cream? Of course, she didn't understand he was conserving himself. That he was aching to spew and determined not to until he had come to his decision about his putative wife.
She didn't need to comprehend any of that, this one.
But right now, the only thing he wanted to decide was where, in that luscious naked body, he was going to plant his fingers. She still needed to please him, and if she were standing, he would have greater purchase to penetrate her.
He pulled her to her feet. Yes. In profile, she had the perfect breasts, the hardest little nipples, the bushiest mound, the longest legs. He slipped his hands between those legs, one from the front, one from behind.
Immediately, her body went weak at his touch—his three fingers slipping into her pubic hair, probing for her slit; and the long slide of his palm against her buttocks, feeling for her crease.
Her body arched invol
untarily as he found what he sought, his fingers ramming upward into her hot soaked cunt. "Oh, our innocent Chaste doesn't need a man to make her wet and hot, does she?" He twisted his fingers and her body spasmed. "No. Our Chaste knows all about the pleasure between her legs." He pushed harder and deeper into her. "I haven't yet plumbed the depths of my succulent Chaste...." He began stroking her from behind, deep in her crease, moving down-
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ward to that nether part that had never been touched—and now he stroked it and pushed at it, and she convulsed again.
He made a guttural sound. His penis throbbed and jammed against her hip. He held her eyes which were glazed with pleasure as she writhed and shimmied against the feel of his fingers.
He couldn't get enough of that—her undulating body, her heat, her honey, her pleasure, her innocence, her elusiveness. She loved everything he was doing to her, he saw it in her eyes, and yet, and yet—
He was rubbing himself against her, his need building, rushing like a torrent, ready to erupt. She erupted, so suddenly he wasn't prepared for her pulling so violently against him, as if she were desperate to get away from the pleasure—the spiraling, golden, molten, sweeping undertow of pleasure that threatened every sense, every sensibility, her very being.
She went limp, with his fingers still possessing her. She was so hot, so thick with honey deep in her core. He could take her now, so smooth would be his way within.
But not yet. Not yet. He bent to suckle one taut nipple and her body came awake as it stretched toward his mouth. "Ah, not-so-innocent Chaste loves a man sucking on her nipples...." He pulled away from her breast, leaving surrounding the nipple a bubble of hot saliva that dissipated immediately in the cold air so the tip hardened even more.
He made a sound, as she tried to entice him to continue
sucking. He licked the tip instead, and she was suffused with
heat as he forced her legs farther apart and his fingers pressed
deeper.
"The most naked part of a woman... I will embed my penis there..." he moved his fingers, "... that deep inside you, Miss Insolence. When I'm ready."