Damn. She hated admitting even to herself the effect Edmund had on her. “I must say, Your Grace, that I find your approach most provocative. Daring. I like it.” There. She admitted it.
Although she expected the duke to smirk haughtily in response to her admission, instead, he leaned back in his chair and rubbed at his chin looking rather surprised.
She cleared her throat again, paused, and looked about. “Any other questions before we further our discussion on bedside manners?”
“Yes.” Hawksford raised his hand. “What is your opinion of orgies?”
She gawked at him, lowering her chin slightly, and realized that the man was quite serious.
Edmund glanced at her and froze.
“Is that not off topic, My Lord?” she forced herself to ask.
Hawksford shrugged. “You wanted to know if there were any questions. That is a question, is it not?”
Maybelle inwardly cringed knowing that although he was being a complete ass, such questions were inevitable. She had to prove that she was open to every topic.
Orgies. According to her grandmother’s black book, the woman had attended several in her lifetime. And despised each and every experience. For she had always felt neglected by the others.
When in doubt, use Voltaire. “As Voltaire once said in response to an invitation to an orgy, after having already attended one, ‘Once: a philosopher; twice: a pervert.’ And I agree with him.”
“So you have been to one?” Hawksford pressed.
Edmund leaned toward the side of his chair closest to Hawksford and glared at him. “Do you need to be throttled? Is that it?”
Maybelle bit back a smile. It seemed the duke knew what a man’s limit should be. “Thank you, Your Grace, but I believe I have no trouble answering his question.”
She averted her gaze back to Hawksford. His green eyes continued to observe her in a rather dark, almost provocative way.
“No, I haven’t attended an orgy,” she flitted, pleased with how nonchalant she sounded. “And because of my inexperience on the matter, I’ll not further comment. If that ever changes, however, you will be the first to know.”
Hawksford folded his hands behind his head, leaned back, and grinned. “Pleased to hear it.”
God help her. She had to do this day in and day out? She would never survive. At least not for very long.
Lesson Twelve
Be creative.Be very creative.—The School of Gallantry
There was only so much more Maybelle could possibly discuss on the topic of bedside manners. After a very long, very detailed dissertation that addressed everything from hygiene to bed linens to lighting and so on and so on, it appeared by the dead and blank faces of her students that it was time to change the subject. At once.
Which meant she might as well return to a topic no man would ever bore of. Sex. “That concludes my overall dissertation on bedside manners before and after an encounter. Moving on to the last topic evolving around the setting of the bedroom. Would one of you please define the purpose of a dildo and why a man should consider keeping one at his bedside at all times?”
Life seemed to stir once again amongst the herd. Edmund snapped his gaze back to her face.
Hawksford cleared his throat and raised his hand.
Of course. “Yes, Lord Hawksford?”
The man leaned forward and set his hands onto his knees. “I am of the opinion that they should be banned.”
She eyed him. “Really? Why so?”
He shrugged. “If a woman is in possession of a dildo, what need is there for us aside from our seed? I understand a woman needing to pleasure herself, but I want the focus to be on the length I have to offer. Not the length an inanimate object has to offer.”
Edmund sat forward in his chair and eyed him. “I for one, Hawksford, would rather have my woman pleasure herself with a dildo than with another man.”
Maybelle coughed, trying desperately to conceal a laugh. She never realized Edmund’s thinking was so forward. She winced and then asked, “Have you ever handled a dildo, Lord Hawksford?”
“Why should I?” Hawksford grinned and patted the space between his legs. “This is about all I can handle.”
God forbid. It appeared the man had penile jealousy. Which, according to her grandmother, was quite common amongst men. This should be rather entertaining. At the very least. “Harold?” she called out, hoping the man was still within earshot.
Within moments, heavy footsteps came down the corridor toward them.
Edmund, Brayton, Caldwell, Banfield, and Hawksford all sat up ramrod in their chairs and eyed the door, not knowing what it was she had in mind.
Harold appeared in the doorway, his massive body eating into the space. He glanced at the men and then at her. “Yes, Madam?”
“Do you know where my grandmother keeps all the dildos?”
Harold stared at her for a long moment and then cleared his throat. “Yes.”
“Wonderful. Fetch five, please. Oh, and inform all the girls to make an appearance in about five minutes. We will be commencing demonstrations.”
Harold drew his brows together, nodded, then disappeared.
“Demonstrations?” Banfield demanded, staring her down.
Brayton didn’t say a word, only sat back, rubbed at his scarred jaw, and kept his eyes trained on the door.
Hawksford sat far forward in his wing-backed chair, bracing his elbows on his knees. “This is what I am damn well paying for.”
Caldwell raked his hands through his blond hair, blew out a breath, and let his hands drop back into his lap, as if preparing himself mentally and physically.
And Edmund? Edmund simply grinned. As if he were thoroughly in control of the situation.
Yes. But for how much longer?
Within moments, Harold came in with a hatbox, stalked toward her, and shoved it into her hands. “The ladies will be down shortly.” He then left the room, wiping his gloved hands briskly onto his trousers.
Maybelle turned toward the small writing desk, set the hefty box on it, and removed the lid. Inside were about a dozen perfect, hard leather dildos with a carved wooden handle on the end of each one. She scooped up five and turned back toward the class.
Stepping toward them, she tossed the dildos, one by one, onto all of their laps. They froze and simply stared down at what she had given them.
Maybelle folded her hands before her, already pleased with their response. “In Latin, dilatare translates to open wide. Hence the origin of the word. Dildos have had various uses throughout the centuries, including ancient rituals and ceremonies whose one of many purposes was to deflower virgins, and were once known to be made of stone and wood. A few splinters and bruises later, a woman demanded a little more satisfaction. The result is what you have in your lap. As you might imagine, the upkeep of a dildo is quite important. Especially after each use.”
She paused, eyeing them. “Would any of you gentlemen care to demonstrate to the rest of the class as to how to properly handle a dildo?”
“No,” they all said in firm unison.
Maybelle bit back a grin. Men were so easy to agitate. Any thought of competition, including that of an inanimate object, and they were predictably upset. “We will leave that to our ladies, then.”
As if on cue, one by one the four models swept in through the door, their red robes flowing around their slim bodies and long legs like the goddesses that they were. Their long, dark hair had been let loose and brushed against the fluid movements of their thighs and buttocks, which were outlined by their clinging brocade robes. They all settled standing perfectly in a row before all the men, each setting an elegant right hand onto her hip. As if trained to do so. Which most likely they were. By her grandmother.
Banfield sat frozen, dread overtaking his rugged face.
Caldwell sank farther back into his chair and appeared to be in agonizing, yet blissful pain.
Hawksfor
d grinned like the devil that he was, his green eyes roving over each woman, no doubt coming up with all sorts of ideas.
Brayton crooked a dark brow and scrutinized them. As if they were displays at the museum.
While Edmund? He scratched at his shaven chin and appeared to be somewhat occupied with a thought. Though only God knew what thought.
Maybelle gestured toward the women. “These beautiful women will be demonstrating the dildo.” Maybelle paused, only now realizing there were four ladies and five men. Her grandmother hadn’t planned for Edmund.
She eyed the duke, who was now cocking his head and openly admiring the women. She fought the twinge of jealousy that overtook her. She needed to stay focused. She had a class to conduct.
Maybelle pointed each beauty toward Caldwell, Banfield, Brayton, and Hawksford. She then met Edmund’s dark gaze. “Seeing there are only four women for the demonstration, Your Grace, I shall have no choice but to be the fifth.”
Edmund cleared his throat, grabbed up his dildo from his lap, and shifted in his chair, eyeing her.
Maybelle tried to calm the fluttering in her stomach at his apparent eagerness and instead took to instructing the class. “An experienced and generous lover learns to keep a dildo at his bedside so that he can offer it to his lady whenever she pleases. The objective is to be creative. The more creative you are, the more pleasure it will result in. And as my grandmother always proclaims, ‘A woman has more than one entrance to occupy a man’s time.’”
“I’d say.” Hawksford stuck the end of the dildo into his mouth, waggled his brows up at his model, and said through the dildo, “Do you think a woman will still respect me in the morning?”
Everyone started laughing.
Maybelle rolled her eyes, hurried over to Hawksford, and yanked the dildo out of his mouth using the wooden handle. Passing it over to the model, who looked rather flushed, Maybelle glared at Hawksford. “This is a classroom, My Lord, not a circus-minded bordello. Allow me to demonstrate one proper use.” Maybelle took in a calming breath and told herself she could do this. She could.
Casually making her way back to Edmund, she leaned toward him and took his hand, which still held the handle of the dildo. Gently, she repositioned his fingers around the wood handle. She tried hard to ignore the warmth of his fingers and how his large palm seemed to swallow the length of the dildo.
Knowing that she was about to set a precedent her grandmother would no doubt be proud of, Maybelle lifted the dildo to her mouth, parted her lips, and gently slid it into her mouth. As far as it would go. Toward the back of her throat.
Edmund sucked in a harsh breath, his firm grip on the handle tightening all the more. He stared at her mouth and clearly seemed to note how deep it had slid inside.
Silence drummed within the classroom.
Although she knew every single man and woman was watching, the only eyes that mattered at that moment were Edmund’s. His gaze seemed to darken with an intensity that had yet to match anything she’d ever seen before in his eyes. His jaw tightened but otherwise he did not move.
Guiding his large hand, Maybelle slid the dildo gently in and out, in and out, the taste of the hard leather tingeing her lips. With each steady stroke, a strange boldness overtook her. She wanted to prove to Edmund right here, right now, who was really in control. Did he want a duchess who had no qualms about swallowing a dildo in public? She somehow doubted that. And regardless, she was certain that she had made her point.
Maybelle slid the dildo out completely, straightened, and calmly turned back to face the class. “Your purpose is to deliver pleasure. Being creative is always helpful with regards to this aspect. For in the end, it does not matter where this instrument goes, but whether your lover is receiving pleasure.”
Brayton, Caldwell, Banfield, and even Hawksford gaped at her. Banfield’s dildo slipped from his hand and down onto his lap. He quickly snatched it back up and cleared his throat.
Maybelle smiled. “There is no reason to be shy,” she prompted. “If you can find it tolerable to insert a dildo into the lips of a complete stranger, I assure you, you will have no trouble inserting it into any part belonging to your lover. It is your duty to ensure that she is thoroughly sated.”
All of her students eventually turned their gazes to the women before them and now appeared quite serious about the topic of the dildo.
Maybelle turned to Edmund, who continued to stare up at her from his chair, his jaw tight.
Oh, yes. It was time he recognized who was really in control of this game. She smiled at him, leaned over, and patted his knee. “You were ever so brilliant, Your Grace. Do you require another demonstration?”
“No,” he growled out, his thumb circling over the tip of his dildo, where her mouth had been. “Thank you.”
Maybelle tried to ignore where his thumb was or what he was insinuating. For one brief moment, she actually wondered what it would be like to place him into her mouth. She wet her lips, which still tasted of salted leather, and quickly snapped her attention back to the rest of the class.
The men were naturally enjoying themselves, mesmerized not only by the closeness of their beautiful models but by the way the dildo went in and out of their open mouths.
The clock in the far corner of the room chimed ten times before clicking back into silence, reminding her it was time. “Ladies, you may return to the pleasure room,” she announced. “Thank you for the marvelous demonstration. I am certain the men appreciated your participation.”
Each woman slowly slid her dildo out, some of them revealing very wicked grins. They then straightened, and one by one whisked out of the room.
Maybelle exhaled and glanced around at the serious, flushed faces of all the men, who were still holding on to their dildos. With white knuckles. “Are there any questions before we end class today?”
No one said a word. Clearly, the lesson had been a success.
She smiled. “Seeing there are no further questions, I will leave you all to discuss this amongst yourselves. It was a pleasure spending the morning with you. Tomorrow, as part of our lesson, I am asking that each of you bring a gift for a would-be lover. There is a reason I am not giving you time. Producing gifts for your lover with little time is a difficult endeavor. Do remember that the way you present your gift will be just as important as the gift itself. Have them ready for presentation tomorrow in class. Any questions?”
The men still said nothing.
She nodded toward them, rather pleased with how things had turned out. “Good day, then. Until tomorrow.”
With that, she turned and sashayed her way toward the doorway, still in disbelief that she had actually kept herself afloat. Or at least she thought she had.
“Madam!”
Maybelle paused and turned to find all five men, including Edmund, standing in honor of her departure, the dildos still in their hands.
Lord Caldwell intently made his way toward her, toting along his leather dildo.
She lowered her chin slightly and tried to remain serious despite the all-around display of dildos. “Yes, My Lord?”
Caldwell paused before her and shoved several blond strands of hair out of his eyes with his other hand. “I am hosting a gathering tonight. Though I confess it is a bit…risqué.”
Risqué? Oh, her grandmother would be jealous. “Are you asking me to attend, Lord Caldwell?”
“Yes. I think you would add immense flavor to the evening.”
Immense flavor? How quickly one became popular when open to the subject of sex. Maybelle glanced over toward Edmund and realized the duke was frowning, tilting his head, and inspecting the dildo in his hand. As if he weren’t even listening.
Maybelle didn’t know what came over her at that moment, perhaps she had inherited too much of a naughty nature from her grandmother, but she knew that there was only one way to go about responding to something as delicious as this. “If all of my students will be in attendanc
e, My Lord, then so will I.”
Edmund glanced up, as if now realizing what was going on, and stared at her.
Oh, yes. His mother, along with the rest of the ton, would no doubt love that.
Caldwell snapped back toward the men, pointed with his dildo and said, “You are all going,” then turned back toward her and bowed. “We look forward to seeing you tonight. I shall have an invitation delivered to your door immediately.”
Maybelle bit back a smile, inclined her head toward him, then turned and swept out of the room. This whole improper education was rather quite fun. Especially knowing that Edmund had no choice but to tag along.
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