Fascinated

by Bertrice Small

  "Wait!" she cried. "If I must submit to this before the Devil's Disciples, who will wield the tawse?"

  "I will," he assured her. "I should not allow any of them to do so. Men not used to such devices have a tendency to become over enthusiastic in the application of punishment and harm their victims. That is not the purpose of it. The function of the tawse is to arouse, with the intention of making the recipient excited and ready to accept a good sturdy cock up her cunt."

  "I see," Lucinda replied, but she thought it really quite un-necessary, and said so to him. "After all, if a woman loves a man, she is eager to make love with him. She needs no stimulus other than her passions."

  "I agree," he said. "Out there are those men who don't, either because they need to see a woman humbled by such punishment, or the woman herself is cold, without desire, and needs such harsh excitement to be aroused. The gentlemen of the Devil's Disciples are jaded in their tastes. This sort of drama pleases and excites them. In the event I cannot prevent your ravishment before them, you must be prepared for what I will have to do. Are you ready now, Lucinda?"

  She swallowed nervously, and said in a small voice, "Yes." She heard the sound of the leather as it swung through the air to make firm contact with her bottom. It stung her, and she squealed. A second, and a third blow made contact. She felt her flesh beginning to grow warm. The narrow, knotted thongs peppered her hapless flesh, causing it to feel as if it were afire. Lucinda bit her lip to prevent crying out.

  "Don't try to be brave," he advised her. "They will like it if after a few smacks you begin to howl a bit." He laid the leather across her bottom again.

  "Ohhhh!" Lucinda cried out, half in jest, half in hurt.

  "Excellent, my pet," he approved, and gave her two more hard spanks with the tawse. Then he reached beneath her furry quim, pushing a finger between her nether lips. She was already moist, but not yet wet enough. He caressed her buttocks four more times with the tawse while Lucinda sobbed most convincingly. A brief second inspection of her privates now told him she was very ready to be mounted. Tossing the tawse aside, he loosed his male member, grasped her hips, and slid his love lance into her juicy cunt. Her bottom pressing into him was hot, the skin a deep pink. "Ahhh, that is good, my pet," he groaned as he sank into her.

  "Ohhh, yes!" Lucinda agreed. "It is delicious, Master!"

  "Do you want to be fucked?" he whispered wickedly in her ear. Then his tongue tickled it, and his breath came hotly.

  "Ohhh, yes!" she replied. "I want to be fucked, Master!"

  "And so you shall, my pet," he told her. Then he began to piston her slowly, his big cock pushing deep, withdrawing, then pushing into her once again.

  "Faster, you devil!" she cried. "Faster!" She could feel the long, hard love lance delving within her love passage. Instinctively she arched her back slightly, the muscles within her hot pathway tightening about his thick cock, holding it prisoner a moment, then releasing him.

  "Ahhhh, Lucinda!" he cried out. "You are killing me with your magnificent sweetness." He relinquished his hold upon her hips as he lay over her and reaching down grasped her breasts in his hands, fondling them most desperately.

  It was all too much for Lucinda. The tawsing had brought her to a level of excitement she had never before attained. His hands on her breasts only increased the thrill. The relentless pumping of his wonderful cock set her to moaning. She soared with the most absolute, and perfect pleasure she had ever known. Her body shuddered violently, and she came, her juices seemingly endless in her delight. One conscious thought remained. He had to save her!

  The Master felt her crowning the head of his hungry cock with her juices. With a cry he released his own, his hands squeezing her breasts hard before moving back to grasp her hips, to piston her a final few times before he lost himself in her incredible sweetness. He had to save her!

  He lay bent over her, panting for a short time before he slowly raised himself up. Lucinda was half-conscious, hung over the Maiden Tamer, in a posture of complete submission. Only her breathing indicated to him that he hadn't killed her. He began to undo her bonds immediately.

  "Are you all right?" he asked her anxiously, and pulling her free he picked her up, carrying her across the Great Hall.

  Seating himself in a chair, he cradled the semiconscious woman. "Lucinda! Speak to me, my pet! Are you all right?"

  She sighed a deep sigh of utter contentment and slowly opened her deep blue eyes. "Of course I am all right, Robert," she told him calmly. "Why would I not be? Ohh, my darling, that was the most marvelous fuck I have ever had! The bar is a bit uncomfortable on the middle, but it was all worth it. You do not, however, have to spank me to arouse me, although I will admit to you that the novelty of it was most stimulating." She reached up and stroked his cheek, her fingers toying mischievously with his mask. "You are a wonderful lover, Robert. Why do you allow the fact you have small funds to keep you from marrying? This estate is a wonderful place. I could live here the rest of my life, never again see London and be happy. Certainly there is some girl you might love who would do the same for you alone."

  His heart almost broke. She could be happy here. She was happy here. He loved her, but he could not for honor's sake admit to it. "There is no one," he said stonily, and then he tipped her from his lap almost impatiently. "Put your gown back on, Lucinda. There is nothing more I can teach you. Go, and get dressed, and we will ride."

  "When is the full moon?" she queried as she slid the night garment back over her naked body. It had to be near, she knew, for she had been watching the waxing of the moon each night from her window

  "In three days' time, my pet," he told her.

  Three days. She had three days left with him. Three days of this most glorious summer before she must participate in a ridiculous episode that she was actually dreading. She wasn't fearful of being made love to, but what her three suitors wanted of her wasn't love. It was revenge for making them the laughingstock of London society at last spring's season. She wished now she had never gone, except if she hadn't, she would never have met the man she now loved so desperately that she was almost tempted to admit her love to him. But she couldn't. If she did, and he reciprocated her feelings-and she suspected he might, for why else had he decided to save her- would it not give him great pain if his plan, whatever it was, didn't work? If she had to submit to the duke, the marquess, and Lord Bertram before a leering crowd of gentlemen? Lucinda had never felt nearer to crying in her entire life.

  The next few days passed more quickly than she would have wanted. They spent the time together, riding out over the fields, now summer-weary. He showed her the ungelded male yearling that was being sent to Turkey. It was a beautiful young animal the same rich chestnut color as her hair. It snuffled an apple from her hand, its soft muzzle tickling her palm. At night they made passionate love together, but he still departed for his own chamber lest the temptation to see his face overcome her while he slept.

  "You swear to me on your honor that you will come to London to the Whitley ball," she said. Then, "You can obtain an invitation, can't you, Robert?"

  "My friend, Lord Bowen, will arrange it, my pet," he told her, kissing her brow. "Is it that important to you, Lucinda?"

  "It is the most important thing in the world to me, Robert," she told him.

  "Why?" he queried her, curious.

  "You have played the role of The Master for the Devil's Disciples for several years now," she began. "You have said I am to be your last pupil no matter the consequences. I believe that indicates that you have a conscience of sorts, sir. You know what you have done is wrong. The rich and the powerful have no God-given rights to abuse the poor and the helpless. Not that that has ever stopped them, nor will it, I suspect, in years to come. If you can save me from the lustful desires of my three suitors tomorrow night, even if you cannot, I shall give them a public set-down in London such as they cannot imagine. Would you not like to be there for that, Robert? Is it not a fitting and a just end to
your career as The Master?"

  "They will find another man to play The Master," he said.

  "Perhaps, but perhaps not. I intend using my brother, the good Bishop of Wellington, to dismantle the Devil's Disciples. If he does not, I shall expose him and his cronies to the

  Archbishop of Canterbury, even if it means revealing my own shame. The Devil's Disciples shall abuse no more young women!" she finished firmly.

  He burst out laughing, and then he kissed her soundly. "Lucinda, my pet, you swore to me that I should not master you, and by God, I have not! I cannot tell you how happy that makes me." Then he kissed her again, tumbling her onto her back with a chuckle. "I want to fuck you, my adorable little firebrand. Would you like that? A final fuck before I must send you back to London?"

  "Come here to me, my wonderful master," Lucinda purred at him, drawing him down into the circle of her arms. "Ohh yes! That is very, very nice," she encouraged him as his lips and his tongue hungrily mouthed her lips, her straining throat, her breasts.

  He suckled upon her nipples. He could almost taste sweetness from the hardened little nubs atop the soft mounds of her bosom. His lips moved down her torso, kissing, licking, nipping teasingly. She murmured encouragement to him. He nuzzled the wonderful dark, curly bush of curls atop her plump mound, sliding his long body down and between her milky white thighs. Her nether lips were already moist, a tiny pearl of silvery cum seeping from between them. He opened her tenderly and looked upon the rosy coral flesh for the first time. He had never used her in this fashion, for this was a lover's privilege, not a master's. Her little clit stood at attention, almost throbbing before his eyes. Bending forward, he began to lick it hungrily, then suck upon it.

  Lucinda cried out with undisguised pleasure. Her fingers tangled themselves into his thick dark hair, kneading at his scalp desperately. "Oh, God, yes!" she sobbed. "Yes!" She felt his teeth gently grazing her, and she shuddered with delight.

  Finally he could bear no more of their love play. Her nails were digging into his shoulders indicating her need, and his need was every bit as great. He pulled himself up and, slipping between her open legs, thrust his cock deep into her hot, wet love sheath, smiling as she sighed deeply beneath him. Slowly at first, and then more quickly he pistoned her, and Lucinda scored his back with her nails in her passion. Her teeth sank into his shoulder.

  He was hard. His great cock probed deeply into her soft, yielding flesh. She sobbed with her need for him. This couldn't be the last time. It couldn't be. She wouldn't let it! She tightened herself around him as if she could never let him go. He groaned, and she wrapped her legs about his torso, sobbing. She was going to be the best fuck he had ever had, and when her revenge was complete, she would marry him. And he would want her! Then they came together in a blinding explosion of sensual delight that left them both half-conscious for several minutes afterward. / love you, Lucinda whispered in her heart, not knowing that he was silently whispering the same words to himself as his arms tightened about her comfortingly, and they slept.

  When Lucinda awoke he was gone. The pillow where his head had rested was cold, but upon it lay a perfect white rose. She picked it up and smelled its heady fragrance, a smile upon her lips as she remembered their passion the night before. Now, however, it was morning. This night she would face her persecutors. Whatever happened, she would still triumph over them, but she hoped with all of her heart that she could be saved from their lust, which would be like a night jar washing over her and befouling her. But if he could not dissuade those three buffoons, they would live to regret their actions. That, Lucinda promised herself.

  "Master says you are to have a nice bath, and then he has picked out the garments you will wear tonight," Polly told her mistress. "Ohh, just think, m'lady. Tomorrow we'll be on our way back to London!"

  "Yes," Lucinda replied, "but you'll not be long there, Poll. You'll return to the country by Christmas and be in your new home."

  "I won't mind," Polly responded, "but it will be nice to see old Londontown a final time. I'm used to the country, m'lady, and now I've got me John. It's the quiet life for us both."

  She took a long, leisurely bath, and Polly washed her hair. Lucinda was very surprised by the garments she found he had chosen. There was a delicate cambric chemise edged in lace on the sleeves over which she wore a small corset of flowered white silk that Polly laced up the back. Next came a silk petticoat, then a hooped underskirt support of bent wood. Over it was a quilted satin underskirt, cream with lavender flowers. Lucinda's gown, its skirts looped up on either side to show the underskirt, was embroidered lavender silk. It had a deep, round scooped neckline allowing her breasts to swell slightly over the top, pushed up by her corset. The sleeves were tight to the elbow, and then a waterfall of creamy lace called en-gageants fell almost to her wrists below the sleeves. Her provocative neckline was edged in lace as well. Three bows adorned her pleated bodice, and there was a matching bow on each sleeve just above the engageants. She wore low-heeled slippers of cream silk on her feet and cream-colored silk stockings with rose garters. Her chestnut hair was piled high with several ringlets that tumbled down reaching her shoulders. Polly dressed it with fresh flowers. Pearl earbobs were fastened into her ears, and a filigreed gold cross on a chain was fastened about her slender neck.

  Lucinda looked at herself in the full-length mirror in her bedchamber. "I look like the respectable lady I am," she said, and then she turned to The Master, who had just entered the room. "Why? Should I not be half-naked, or in something diaphanous meant to titillate?"

  "No," he told her. "Not if my plan is meant to succeed, my pet. Tonight you must look and act the perfect lady. Now, remember to immediately obey every order I give you so it may seem as if you are properly mastered."

  "What if your plan doesn't succeed?" she asked a final time.

  "Then, my pet, you will find yourself stripped naked and bent over the Maiden Tamer so your suitors may have at you," he replied harshly. "So play your part well, Lucinda, that we may triumph over the Devil's Disciples this night." He took her hand up and kissed it. "One more thing, my pet. Polly, the patches, please." The maid handed him a small open box, and The Master extracted two black, heart-shaped patches which Polly dabbed with glue. The first he affixed to her left cheekbone. The second he put upon the swell of her right breast. "There, my pet, now you are ready," he said with a small smile.

  He led her from the house, through the garden and the orchard, reversing their journey the first night she had come here. There was no long summer twilight for it was mid-September. Above them the full moon shone brightly, silvering the landscape around them. The little amphitheater was bright with flickering torches; its stands filled again with gentlemen in their dark, hooded cloaks. The Master wore his tight, dark breeches, his cock hanging boldly out, his white cambric shirt opened at the neck. As he led Lucinda forward, there was a gasp of surprise from his audience.

  The Master bowed to them, and then said, "My lords, I present to you tonight, Lady Lucinda Harrington, well-mastered now, and as tamed as any good house kitten should be. Make your curtsey to the Devil's Disciples, my pet."

  Lucinda curtsied low, her head bent slightly, but not so low that the gentlemen were denied a tantalizing view of her full breasts. She swallowed a giggle as many of them leaned forward eagerly to view the creamy swell of flesh with its shadowed dark valley. Their hot eyes seemed to be drawn to the little heart patch.

  "We will begin, my lords, when you have put your hoods back," The Master announced.

  Lucinda kept her face impassive as the hoods were flung back, and the faces, most of them familiar, were revealed. There was her brother, George, the saintly bishop, in the front row next to her three suitors. Oh, George would suffer for his perfidy, Lucinda thought, as eyes lowered, she considered her revenge.

  "Why is she not naked?" the Duke of Rexford demanded.

  "Aye, and where is the Maiden Tamer?" Lord Bertram called out.

  "Hear me out
, my lords," The Master said to them. "In the past you have brought me young women of low birth. I have mastered them for you, and you have had your sport. I have never failed you. This woman, however, is a real lady. While I have mastered her for you, I do not think you should use her publicly before our little club."

  "And why not?" the Marquess of Hargrave wanted to know.

  "Do you each still hope that Lady Lucinda will choose you for her husband, my lords?"

  "Aye!" the trio exclaimed with one voice.

  "And, my lords, will the one she chooses be content knowing the other two have had her publicly before most of their friends, the cream of society? Or does the lucky gentleman intend keeping the lady down in the country forever? And if her first child is born within the first year of the marriage, can the lucky gentleman be certain that the baby is his?"

  "You have had her," the Duke of Rexford said. He sounded a bit irritated.

  "That is true, my lord; but you do not know who I am, and the proper precautions were taken. Only one man among you knows who I am. If you met me at White's, or at a ball, you would not recognize me as The Master. None of you would, but for the one gentleman. But you all recognize each other, and know who holds membership in the Devil's Disciples, or the Hellfire. If you three publicly ravish Lady Lucinda tonight before your peers, you cannot stop the gossip that will ensue. The lady's reputation will be ruined, as will that of her husband. I know you do not want that.

  "Allow me to suggest another way. The lady has been mastered by me, and you have had your revenge in part. On November fifteenth the Countess of Whitley holds her end of hunting season ball in London. We shall all be there. Lady Lucinda has promised me that at that ball her brother, George, will announce her betrothal. In the meantime she has agreed to receive you all as callers in her home at Number Three Traleigh Square, London. I am willing to accept the lady's word, so I am certain that the rest of you must. No one will be embarrassed by this. No one but the Devil's Disciples will know she has been with me these past three months and not in Ireland with her sister. As for you gentlemen, you will certainly not tell for fear your wives, daughters, sisters, mothers and mistresses learn of your lustful little peccadillos."