by Juniper Bell
I swallowed hard. Whatever he intended to do with it, my body was already responding. I watched, fascinated, as it came closer and closer. Then the feather settled softly against my quim with delicate, maddening strokes. The feeling was exquisite but also something close to torture. It teased but offered no hope for release. It enticed like a voice calling from afar, beckoning me onward and upward, yet never bringing me to my destination.
I tried to push against it but he barked a sharp command at me. “Be still.” I froze. He continued his minute application of the feather to my mound, brushing against the hairs and the hot little kernel of need. I closed my eyes in despair. This was worse than any punishment I could have devised. I’d prefer chains and a paddle to this constant, unbearable teasing. I hid in the darkness behind my closed eyelids as I lost all sense of time passing.
Then it changed. Something hard scraped against that vital spot. I drew in a shocked breath.
“I know you’re already well-acquainted with your own clitoris, you naughty girl.”
Oh I was. But not the way it felt now, as if it might leap off my body and burst into flame. “Yes,” I squeaked.
The hard thing—it occurred to me it was the point of the quill—toyed with my clitoris. I suppressed an undignified yelp.
“Good. No woman should be a stranger to the workings of her body. Have you felt the juices your delicious quim produces?” Here he let the quill roam freely, even dipping a bit into my woman’s passage.
“I…I’ve noticed.”
“They exist for a reason. To welcome my cock into your body.”
I squeaked again. It was all I could manage. Intense sensation between my thighs captured my full attention.
“I resisted entering you earlier so as to spare you from pregnancy. But I can’t resist any longer, and since you’ve entered my chamber without permission and removed your clothing without protest, I intend to take you now.”
He paused, and I knew that was my chance to protest. I did not.
“But I still intend to protect you. There are ways to avoid getting with child. Have you heard of a French letter?”
The feathery end was back now, brushing lightly back and forth against the aroused tip of my clitoris. Oh it was diabolical, that feather. Surely I would die if he didn’t do that same sweet thing to me he’d done earlier.
I struggled to remember his question. French letters. “No.”
“It’s a pouch for my member. It will hold my seed inside so it doesn’t come into your body. Now continue your turn. I want to see your rear.”
I swallowed and pulled my legs together so I could rotate again. They felt heavy, as if weighted down by my desire. When my back was to him, he danced the feather along my spine, down the crevice between my buttocks, and back and forth between my thighs. Shivers shuddered through me—it was divine.
Then his big, hot hand came against my lower back and bent me firmly down so my breasts again rested on the bed. My hands trembled but I kept them behind my head until he told me otherwise. If I’d felt exposed before, I was even more so now, with my vulnerable buttocks bared to him. I squeezed my thighs together, both as protection and to feel the sweet heat. But he stopped my motion, planting both hands firmly on the backs of my thighs and spreading me apart. Now my quim lay open before him. Open and begging and pulsing.
“Ahh,” he murmured, as if he’d just taken a long drink of some soothing beverage. “Just as tender and juicy as I imagined.” He confirmed this with his two thumbs, using them to spread my folds and press against my clitoris.
I moaned into the coverlet and clenched my hands into fists. I think I even felt a bit of drool drip onto the cloth. I waggled my rear against his hands. As I did so, my clitoris rubbed against the coverlet, unleashing more wild storms of craving. I needed more, now, or I was going to expire.
“Please, Master…” I was so rattled I couldn’t remember his title. All I knew was that he was the master of my body at this moment.
He bent over me, his hot breath in my ear, and spread my arms to the side. They tingled; I hadn’t realized they’d gotten cramped, but he had. Now he stroked them, shoulder blade to fingertips, then back up and down my shuddering back.
“Don’t worry, my pet. You’ll get what you need.” He took one hand away. I heard him fumble with his breeches. A chant began in my mind. Please, now, please, hard, now, please.
“This might hurt for a moment,” he said as he settled back over me. I stiffened, not sure what was coming. He began to murmur in my ear as he stroked my wet sex. “But you might have managed to break your maidenhead with all your horse riding, so it might not. It will take a moment for your body to adjust to the feel of me inside you. Just keep breathing. Have faith that it will eventually be everything you’ve craved, and more.”
Something widened my opening and began pressing inside. From the thickness and hardness, I knew it must be his male member. As he worked his way inside me, he kept up his stream of chatter.
“I always knew you had a passionate streak lurking beneath that dutiful exterior. I want you to let it out. Don’t worry about anything you might say or do while we’re being intimate. I’ve always believed the sexual act ought to be a place of utter, complete safety from judgment and doubt. Just let yourself feel. Let yourself be free. I’m right there with you, my sweet.”
With that, he pushed all the way into me. I cried out, but in truth it was more out of surprise at the starburst that his intrusion created than pain. I shifted, confused by the torrent of sensations, the feeling of being filled to overflowing, stretched and plugged.
“M-M-Marquis!” I exclaimed. “How very…odd.” But my voice quavered and I couldn’t finish my thought, for he’d begun to move inside me. Not only that but his hand worked its way back under me so he could diddle my clitoris. “Oh! Ohhhhhhh!” I kept gasping. How could… What madness… What delirium! Then he did something with his thumb against my clitoris while moving just so within my body, and a spiral of delight swept me up as if I were being held aloft by a fountain. Tremors shook my body; I was helpless to contain them. But the Marquis had told me not to, so I shoved aside my caution and surrendered to the storm.
I pushed against the hard invader inside me, and each time more sparkles of joy danced through my belly.
“When you squirm so, I cannot stop myself,” he growled. I knew not what he meant, though I knew I certainly had no desire for him to stop anything. Then he gave a last, massive thrust and released a primitive howl into the night. Spasms rocked through him—I felt them just as if they were my own lovely convulsions. I stayed with him, wanting to show him the same care he’d shown me. I clenched at him with my inner muscles, milking him fiercely.
“Oh my sweet,” he moaned, collapsing onto my body.
I felt as if I still soared somewhere in the upper regions of heaven. I whimpered, “So lovely. So lovely.” Tears came to my eyes and spilled over, dripping onto the coverlet and onto his hand.
“Are you all right?” he cried in alarm, rolling off me and peering into my face. “Did I hurt you?”
“No…no,” I sobbed. “I simply never imagined something so beautiful could exist.”
He fell back onto the bed. “Oh, if that’s all it is.”
“Yes.” I wiped my face so I wouldn’t get his coverlet all wet. But he didn’t seem concerned. He scooped me up so I lay in a cozy ball within his arms. “Is it always so…so…rapturous?”
“Rarely,” he said, tenderly stroking a strand of my hair away from my damp face. “Only for some fortunate people who allow themselves that pleasure, and who open themselves to trust and surrender.”
“Milord.”
At the intense tone in my voice, he stilled. “Yes?”
I buried my head in his chest so my words were muffled. I had something to say, something that burned in my soul, that begged to be released. “My lord,” I whispered. “My lord and master. I am yours to command.” Part of me hoped he wouldn’t hear. That pa
rt was quickly disappointed.
“Indeed.”
* * * * *
The first command came the very next afternoon. As I heated milk for Rose, a footman delivered a message from the Marquis. I was ordered to report to the stables immediately. The Countess apparently had already granted me a few hours off that afternoon. I flew up the stairs with the milk and handed it to Graham.
“I have an urgent task to complete,” I told her, still breathless from my dash through the halls of Sweetbriar. “Will you put Rose to sleep for her nap?”
“Go on, child. Rose and I’ll be just fine.”
I hurried to my room, where I found another surprise. A forest-green riding habit hung on the wardrobe door, a note pinned to it. “Don’t keep your master waiting”, it read. Heavy excitement weighed down my limbs and made my fingers tremble as I removed my clothes and donned the riding habit. He’d thoughtfully provided a pair of half boots as well. When I was dressed, I looked down at myself and saw a ghost. The ghost of the Honorable Miranda Hampton.
I dared not think what the other servants would say when they saw me dressed like this, as if I were pretending to be a lady. But no one caught sight of me as I trotted out of the house and toward the stables. I found them eerily empty. The carriage was gone. Alicia must have gone visiting and taken the groom. Not even the stable boy was about. I spotted several riding crops mounted on the walls, but my earlier fear didn’t return. It seemed almost absurd now. The blame should be laid at the door of the Vicious Viscount, not an inanimate object.
Where was the Marquis? Had I taken too long getting dressed? In a state of near-panic, I ran from stall to stall, surprising horses but finding no dark, disreputable Marquis until I reached the last one. I peered inside. The grassy scent of hay tickled my nostrils. From the slit of a window, a sunbeam made dust motes into dancing fairies of light. No horse inhabited this stall, only the Marquis.
He’d taken his riding jacket off and hung it on a nail. His white shirt billowed about him. I caught a glimpse of dark curly hair underneath. He was so handsome I let out an artless sigh. Yet he didn’t seem at all pleased to see me. He frowned in a dire manner.
“You’re late,” he declared.
“I had to bring the milk to Rose, then I had to dress. I came as quickly as I could, sir.” Indeed, I was still panting from my mad rush.
He held up a firm hand. “That’ll do. As the master, I shouldn’t have to wait for my own servant, should I? Especially when I’m burning for her.” Deliberately he put his hand to the fall of his breeches and rubbed that massive bulge. I caught my breath. The memory of how that rod had felt inside me had disturbed last night’s sleep to no small degree.
“No, milord. You shouldn’t.”
He rubbed himself again, those strong, masterful hands caressing himself through his breeches. His eyes closed halfway as he seemed to lose himself in lonely arousal. It wasn’t right.
“Please, milord. May I…touch you?”
Tilting his head to one side, he seemed to consider my request as he continued to fondle himself. “Very well,” he finally decided. “On one condition. You must do exactly as I say.”
I nodded eagerly. Beneath my skirts, my female parts prickled with heat.
“Come close and kneel before me,” he said in a voice as dark as midnight, laden with naughty intention that seemed to find its way into the furthest recesses of my body.
I did as he said. I walked forward and sank to my knees on the hay-scattered floor. Just before my eyes, not three inches from my face, loomed the enormous mound tenting his breeches.
“Put your hands behind your back and unbutton my fall with your mouth and teeth.”
A dark thrill made me tremble. I clasped my hands behind my back, which made my breasts thrust forward. The Marquis bent down to my front and attacked my buttons so my breasts spilled out. He gave my nipples a sharp tweak that made me cry out. Between my legs, my clitoris burned. He plumped my breasts together, then rebuttoned my bodice so it propped them forward in a shameless display.
“Ah, that’s better,” he said. “Your task now. Get on with it.”
I leaned forward so my lips touched his breeches. Fumbling, I found a button and used my teeth to pull it through its buttonhole. The rough abrasion of the cloth against my tongue made me quiver. Not only that, but I couldn’t help letting the tips of my breasts brush against his breeches. Every time that happened, they became more stiff and prominent, until I felt as if heavy lead weighted my nipples.
Three buttons, four, five. By the time all six had been released, my breath came fast and shallow.
“Reach in with your mouth and extract my cock,” ordered the Marquis.
I didn’t have to reach far. It stood stiff and upright against his pelvis. The dusky purple of a bruise, it seemed to grow and pulse before my eyes. Truth to tell, it intimidated me with its mighty presence. But I reminded myself it had been inside me the previous night and brought me the most exquisite release. Delicately, as a sort of exploration, I licked its entire length. Warm, satin-soft, alive and faintly salty. I found it quite to my liking.
Filled with passionate energy, I maneuvered the massive head into the cavity of my mouth and swirled my tongue about it. I made an awkward slurping sound, which seemed to amuse the Marquis.
“Very good. Very good indeed. Now take the entire cock into your mouth and aim it toward the back of your throat.”
Clumsy, I bobbed my head up and down to maneuver his cock the way he asked. It wasn’t easy, and for a moment I nearly gagged.
“Relax your throat muscles. That’s it.” He stroked the straining muscles along my neck then went lower, to my protruding nipples. He teased them for a while, perhaps to distract me from my efforts. It worked. As he stoked the fire within those hard peaks, I struggled to bring his cock to the position he’d dictated. At one point his hands left my nipples and went to his mouth. When they returned, wet and slippery, they tormented my nipples with long, deep pinches until I groaned.
As I made the sound, my throat opened and suddenly there was his cock, entirely impaled within me. My eyes went wide with panic, but he soothed me with hot whispers. He left my nipples then and cupped my face in my hands.
“You’ll be fine, my sweet. Breathe through your nostrils. You won’t suffocate. And think what astounding pleasure you’re bringing me right now. Move your head back and forward on my shaft, just like that. You may now bring your hands from behind your back and cup my balls.”
My hands? I’d forgotten I had hands, focused as I was on my overflowing mouth and my wet, aroused nipples, which were now throbbing with every current of air against their exposed, moistened flesh.
Nevertheless, I released my hands from their tight grasp behind my back and brought them to his cock. I found the soft, tight balls of flesh and held them tenderly in my palms.
“That’s it, nice and light at first. Get used to the feel. I want you to worship my cock as if it were your lord and master. It rules you. It rules your body, your mouth, that hot place between your legs.”
My head swam as if I were drowning in a thick vat of dark honey. My entire body trembled and quaked. Moisture dripped from my quim.
“I’m going to fuck your mouth now.” His voice was feral and nearly unrecognizable. He thrust his cock against the back of my throat. I fought to keep the channel open and relaxed. It was his, after all. His to do with as he pleased. At that moment I existed to serve him with my mouth. I would die before I let him down.
With his strong hands, he held my face and directed the movements of my jaw and head. Up and down, up and down. My world became up and down, hot and hard, thrust and withdraw, fondle and accept. Accept, accept. Accept his fierce flesh into my softness, his dark desires into my soul.
Accept the hot fluid that jetted into my throat. I swallowed again and again as his essence filled the crevices of my mouth and slid down my throat. Some of it dribbled onto my cheeks, along with the tears I couldn’t stop. I
t filled me with joy to feel him spend himself in my mouth in that manner. Even after his thrusting had given way to twitching, I laved his cock with my tongue, searching out every last drop of tangy salt.
He released my head from his tight grasp and pulled his cock from my lips. I collapsed onto the ground on my hands and knees, exhausted, spent, filled with glory. Completely overcome, I closed my eyes. I felt him caress the curve of my cheek, wipe away traces of tears and semen.
“You please me greatly, my dear.”
The sweet words drifted across me like a breeze on a sunny day. How blessed I felt in that moment.
“But I’m afraid the stable boy has just entered the stables. We must find our mounts and be off.”
I scrambled to my feet. “But…”
He cocked his head as he buttoned his fall and put himself to rights. “Yes?”
How could I tell him my entire body burned for satisfaction? That I could not possibly ride a horse in this condition? Why, even my nipples… I looked down at their embarrassing plumpness. He did too. He glance was followed by his lips, as he bent down and drew first one, then the other into his mouth for a long, agonizing suckle.
Oh Lord, oh Lord in heaven, how could anything feel so painfully pleasurable?
The whistle of the stable boy penetrated my haze. My eyes flew open as the Marquis tucked my bosom back inside the bodice of my habit and quickly rebuttoned it. I might be more covered, but I was just as aroused. I squirmed as my nipples pressed against the soft cotton of my shift and the stiff broadcloth of the habit.
He whispered in my ear. “I command you not to come until we reach our destination.” I looked at him desperately. So he knew the state I was in. Of course he did.
I whirled away from him and tended to my hair and face. I couldn’t allow the stable boy to see me so disarranged.
Despite the uncomfortable friction between my legs, it felt glorious to be in a saddle again. I felt powerful and free and full of joy as I clucked Candy into a canter after the Marquis and his black stallion. We rode, wild and free, across meadows and over fences until we reached a lovely stream. There the Marquis pulled on the reins and his horse skittered to a stop.