by Lavinia Kent
“Almost. Sometimes. She’s angled a little away, but when she shifts I can see a deeper pink and…”
“Is she wet and glistening? Does she look eager for a man’s mouth and cock?” His voice wrapped about her, forcing her to imagine herself in Mrs. Binkshaw’s position.
Bliss began to pant. “Yes. When he presses his fingers into her flesh it separates some and I can see it shine, and down her thighs. They glisten and look damp.”
“And what of you? Are you damp and glistening? Are you longing to be touched, caressed, pleasured?” The backs of his fingers brushed the sides of her breasts, but Bliss could swear she felt the faintest of strokes upon her inner thighs.
Chapter Seven
Bliss swallowed, unsure how to take this sudden turn from watching to thinking about her own body, to thinking about her body and Duldon, to thinking about the weight of him pressed against her, the warmth of his thighs, the hardness of the body that surrounded her, the stroke of his fingers reaching for places that had never been touched. “I—I—I don’t know.”
“Do you really not? I can feel your legs pressed together. Is that to stop the ache between them—or to increase it?”
One of his hands left her shoulder and trailed down her back. Could he feel how she trembled at his touch? How she longed to flee and yet longed even more to press herself tight against him?
“Are you embarrassed by my questions?” he asked as his fingers settled upon her waist and squeezed lightly.
“Of course not.” She could only be glad he could not see her blush.
He chuckled, vibrations tickled her ear. “Then let us step back a bit in time. Tell me what he is doing now. Is he still touching her ass?”
“Yes, but his fingers move deeper and lower with each caress. One of his hands has sunk between her legs and is moving in a place I cannot see. I am not quite sure what he is doing.”
“I can imagine.”
“He is spreading her wider and wider. He just shoved her knees a bit apart. I think he will…fuck her in a moment, just as Mr. Banks did in the library. Although he does still have his breeches on. He is spreading her moisture across her. And she likes it. Her hips are beginning to buck almost like a horse. She keeps pressing back and he shoves her forward again. I think she wants more and he is holding back.”
“Is she quivering with need as he deprives her? Does she want more and more and yet the more he refrains the more she wants? A greedy thing, is she?”
Bliss would never have thought of it that way, but said, “Yes, that is exactly it. She wants more.” Just as Bliss did.
Duldon’s fingers wrapped tighter about her waist, whether to pull her to him or hold her tight she could not be sure. It was hard not to move her hips as Mrs. Binkshaw did. Her own need was growing and with every touch she watched she felt a phantom one upon her own flesh, the lightest brush or the firmest grasp, it mattered not. And then…
“My God,” the words came on a single great exhale.
“What?”
“He struck her. He pulled back his hand and hit her flat upon her behind.” Her surprise was so great that the more familiar word slipped from her lips. “And he did it again.”
Duldon tightened against her; she could feel every muscle in him harden and grow strong.
“And again. Should we get help? God, I don’t know what to do.” And she didn’t. The one thing she did know was that she could not look away. Her eyes remained fastened on the rapidly reddening skin of Mrs. Binkshaw’s behind. Each blow that fell caused Mrs. Binkshaw to rise up more, to move into it—to—to seek it? Was she really moving toward the blow? Bliss’s eyes moved to Mrs. Binkshaw’s face. The eyes were large now, but not with fright. It was impossible to escape the emotion that moved within them, to miss the heat high in her cheeks, the swollen red lips. “She likes it. I don’t understand. She likes it. How can someone like being spanked? I never liked being spanked, although to be fair it only happened once.”
“Who spanked you?” Duldon’s voice was low.
“Swanston.”
“I can see how that would not be enjoyable.”
Bliss kept staring ahead, her mind locked on what was happening before her. “Her skin has gotten so red and tender looking. And yet she seems to want more. She’s spreading her legs farther, directing him to her most tender spot. She doesn’t want him to slap her there, does she? Oh, she does. And he’s doing it.” It was getting hard to draw breath. Tiny darts of sensation ran through her and Bliss felt the backs of her thighs tingle with each blow she watched; her—her cunny quivered. What would it be like to feel so ready and needy? To feel a man’s powerful hand pressing one to his will? To desire nothing but…
She almost jumped when Duldon’s other hand left her shoulder and drifted down her back, past her waist to her behind. She stood still, frozen, suddenly completely distracted from what was happening before her. Should she say something? Pull away? Although there was almost no place to go in the narrow hallway that held the peepholes.
Drawing a deep breath in, she did her best to ignore the hand. Perhaps he didn’t realize it was there? Maybe it had just slid down and he wasn’t thinking about it and where it had landed. Perhaps he didn’t realize where it was? No, that was nonsense. Duldon had already demonstrated this night that there might be more to him than she had thought. He knew exactly what it was doing—and what it was doing to her.
Yes, she would ignore it, pretend it was not there.
She focused on the scene before her again. Mr. Binkshaw was opening his breeches. He was turned away from her, so she couldn’t really see anything except for pale buttocks. They were much more muscular than she had expected. Again, he nudged his wife’s legs apart and then, with a sudden thrust of hip, he was in her.
Bliss swallowed again, watching the steady thrust and withdraw of him. Mrs. Binkshaw moved in tandem with him, straining back and then lunging forward. Her face was turned to the side and Bliss could see the effort and the want reflected in her flushed cheeks and wide eyes. She wanted something, wanted it badly, her whole body spasmed with the need for it. Her mouth opened and Bliss could see that her lips formed words, commands. Bliss might not be able to hear, but she knew that expression of command.
She circled her own hips in imitation of Mrs. Binkshaw and felt Duldon’s fingers tighten. Feeling shot straight from their squeeze to between her legs. He’d asked her earlier if she was wet and she had refrained from truly answering. There was no question now; she could feel dampness slicking her thighs, her tight breeches holding the moisture to her. He squeezed tighter, his fingers moving over fabric, awaking her sensitive skin.
It felt good, far better than it should have.
She leaned into him. She knew she should not, but how could she resist?
Another squeeze, harder, tighter, more lightning bolts connecting his hand and the ever-tightening sensation at the apex of her thighs.
“He’s fucking her now, isn’t he? And you like it? You like it very much, don’t you? Do you wonder what it feels like? Do you imagine taking a man into your body? Feeling the long, thick length of a cock sliding in and out? Do you want that? Do you want another orgasm like the one you had in the gardens?” Duldon’s other hand slid down to grasp her other buttock, his fingers digging in tight as he began to massage her through her breeches.
She was going to faint. Bliss had never fainted in her life, but it was going to happen here and now. Her body felt as if it could no longer support itself; knees quivered, thighs shook. Her back arched, allowing her to rest her chest against the wall, but it also pressed her more firmly into Duldon’s hand. The excitement of her mind, of all that she watched, combined with the desire of her body, of Duldon’s touches, to leave her vulnerable, open—and needy, so very needy.
She should pull back, she really should, but it felt so good.
God, she could only hope she was not purring.
“What’s happening now?” his voice whispered.
&n
bsp; “I—I…” It took effort to focus. “I need to look again. I’ve lost track. Oh, he’s flipped her. She’s on her back now on the bed and he’s still, still moving. How long does this normally take? It was rather quick when I watched Lord Banks.”
“Poor Lord Banks,” Duldon chuckled, but his fingers continued to move. “Never let him hear you say that. Men take a certain pride in being able to last. But it lasts as long as it does, sometimes fast, sometimes almost endless. It depends on many factors.”
“Such as?” she gasped, trying to think of anything instead of betraying the wonder that continued to build between her legs.
“Passion and buildup.” His fingers moved lower on her behind, almost down between her thighs, the thick fabric of her breeches rubbing against her, tantalizing her.
The tension she’d felt when Duldon kissed her in the gardens was surging again, winding her tighter and tighter. No matter how tightly she pressed her legs, it brought no ease. “I don’t understand.”
“When a couple has been wanting for a long time it can be quite quick. Much of the play happens before a single piece of clothing is dropped. At other times it can take longer—if a couple has been together for a while or if it is not the first time of the night. Drink, fatigue, age, these also can make a difference.” His fingers moving over her thighs, a thousand prickles of delight spreading from them.
“That makes sense.” Bliss sighed, her attention caught between his ever more daring fingers and the sight of Mrs. Binkshaw’s face as she approached that magical moment, approached her orgasm. “She’s very flushed now and moaning, or at least I think she is moaning. It is hard to tell when I cannot hear.”
“I imagine you are right. Is anything else happening? Describe to me what you see.”
“No, there’s really nothing else happening. Well, his hips are certainly moving with some vigor. I cannot see his face. Oh, his hands have moved to her breasts. He’s stroking, no—squeezing. She likes it. She likes it a great deal. Her face, oh, I wish you could see her face. I’ve never thought of her as a truly beautiful woman, but now, flushed with joy and with her eyes glowing I am not sure I’ve ever seen lovelier.”
“I know what you mean,” he replied.
“I don’t see how you could. I mean…” Bliss glanced over her shoulder again and lost focus as she felt his gaze upon her, upon her cheeks and the lips, lips grown puffy from her nibbling.
“Don’t doubt yourself, my pet. I have always found you lovely, and yes, your flush only adds to it.”
“Oh,” she murmured, turning to stare further. “She still wants more. You should see her pressing back, pushing against him.”
“And you?” Duldon asked after a moment, his breath tickling the back of her neck, heating her further. “Do you want more and more?”
“Of course,” she answered without thought. “I am a Danser. I must want more and more.”
She felt his body stiffen and she turned back to peer at him. His lips appeared tight for the briefest of moments and even in the dim candlelight she thought she saw a myriad of emotions flash behind his eyes. “You should look again. I cannot imagine that Mr. Binkshaw can last much longer.”
Taking the escape his words offered, she pushed her face back to the wall.
“Oh, it’s over. How did I miss that?” She hoped she kept the disappointment from her voice. “They are lying there in each other’s arms. It really is quite sweet and darling.”
“I am not sure that any man would want to be described as sweet and darling after such a performance.”
She giggled and let the mood between them shift again. She tried to ease her body away from Duldon. It was better this way. She did not wish to feel those things. She might be curious but that didn’t mean…“It was a wonderful performance, although I don’t know why I am attempting reassurance when he cannot hear and it looks like he has not a care in the world. I wish you could see the look on his face as he looks at his wife and the care with which he has her cocooned in his arms. Perhaps they should have two peepholes here. Do you think we should suggest it to Madame Rouge? Would you like me to move so that you could take a look?” There was no way that she could move away from the peephole unless he moved first. Although perhaps she could use it as an excuse to back into him. The places where their bodies did connect were so delicious that she could only want more.
No, that was not what she had meant to think.
She did not want more. She should not want more.
Only…
“No,” Duldon replied. “I think I shall force myself to be content with your words. I have to confess that I have never found pleasure in watching another man, or watching in general. I will trust you on their expressions. I have on occasion seen that look myself.”
She was not sure whether he meant on himself or that he had been in circumstances where he had observed it on another couple. A part of her, deep in her gut, hoped that he had not looked at another woman that way. What was she thinking?
She must remember that he was not what she wanted, what she would ever want.
Only those were just words, an effort to not look too closely at what she knew must be true, what she had always known must be true. She did want him, want to feel his body pressing to hers—and she wanted so much more. No. She would think of that later, not now.
“Well, what about more holes? Is there a reason that they only have one?”
Duldon leaned forward, his lips brushing against the back of her neck. “I believe Ruby tries to discourage watchers. There are only a few couples that invite voyeurs. She may think that having more holes would only encourage patrons to sneak back here even when they were not wanted.” His breath vibrated upon the small hairs at the nape of her neck.
She was getting breathless again. Blast. Breathless and confused. How could the mood keep spiraling between them? One minute charged with energy and want and desire. One minute serious as she told him things she could not remember ever telling another. And the next a hint of humor would slip in, a giggle, a chuckle, a lightness of spirit that she rarely felt when not twirling upon the dance floor. She must work to keep herself level. “If she wishes to discourage viewers why have peepholes at all—or could she not just have them in rooms for patrons who wish to be watched?”
“The house has been here longer than Ruby has been running it. I believe it used to be called Madame Noir’s. And Ruby does use the holes. She is very protective of her girls and likes to be sure that all is as it should be. There can be great danger to those in their profession.”
“Oh, I suppose that is true. If young ladies are taught how dangerous men can be, I can only imagine how much greater the risks are to those who have no protection.”
“And so Ruby does her best to provide that protection.” Again his breath rustled the hairs on her neck.
Why did he not just kiss her there? Lick her? Taste her?
Was she really having these thoughts? Yes, she was. The hall was dark and narrow. No one would ever know what they did here. Perhaps she should just turn and kiss him, lick those hard lips, stroke the rough skin of his chin, run her tongue along his teeth…
Only she would know. He would know. And given that her feelings on marriage had not changed…No, it was better to keep things as they were, as they had been.
“I suppose we should be going now. The Binkshaws are done and you have fulfilled your promise.” She forced herself to sound calm and accepting as she spoke, ignoring his hand that still pressed her tight, awaking those delicious tingles of sensation.
She felt his hesitation, was not sure that he had made a sound, and yet she knew he was debating. “There is another room, if you are so daring. I am not sure that I have yet shown you what Madame Rouge’s is really about.”
—
Was he actually going to show her a homosexual encounter? When Ruby had first suggested it Duldon hadn’t taken the idea seriously. He assumed that Bliss would be horrified, as would most young gentlewomen.
Even the idea was unimaginable to them. But having watched, and felt, Bliss’s response to the Binkshaws he could only wonder how she would feel about something even more risqué. He needed to know, to understand her response to each stimulus. He pushed down ruthlessly the thought that she would be interested in…But her eyes did darken whenever he gave her a command and she had seemed intrigued by the Binkshaws’ spanking play. But that didn’t matter. She was going to be his wife. He was merely indulging her desires, not satisfying his own curiosity.
She was going to be his wife, his respected wife. He forced the thought to circle through his brain, again and again. There must be some way to fight the need to turn her around, to take her lips, to bare her breasts and feast upon them, to rip those ridiculous breeches from her, to gaze upon her naked ass, to plunder…
He’d already gone further than he intended. His hands should never have touched her, he should never have asked her questions, never lead her to discuss her feelings over what she was seeing, never had her hint at the wants he could see so clearly. He should have stood back, let her peek, and then hurried her away.
Only, she was so irresistible. Even as his mind longed to treat her as his future wife, his body and desires fought free.
“Another room?” There was no mistaking the sudden eagerness in her voice.
He should have thought this through further, but Bliss seemed to rob him of reason. Every step forward placed them further in danger, made it harder to fight his own demons. Why did he always act too quickly with Bliss? “Yes, Ruby mentioned that there was another couple here this night that like to be watched—although, for reasons you will soon understand, this couple will be masked. They prefer to keep their identities secret.”
“I don’t need any explanation. I cannot imagine not wanting to keep one’s identity a secret. I can’t imagine being the Binkshaws.”