‘That doesn’t sound too bad a life, feasting on dates and fine Arabian wines.’
‘I am married to a woman who raises my children, and has a great name and wealth. But she does not excite me. Not the way a woman like you excites me.’
He seized a piece of paper and wrote list of names on it. Then handed her a bank note. ‘Take this for listening to me, and this,’ he passed the list over it had the address of a dress shop and a list of clothes, ‘If you would care to see exactly how it is that a woman like you can be made to want to be tamed, then go to this shop order these items and go to the address at the bottom this time next week. Bring the clothes but do not wear them.’
‘What’s your name?’ she asked quickly realising that in her reverence for his rank she hadn’t asked for introductions.’
‘Quentin.’
‘Mine is Anna.’ But he had swept out the door before he could have heard her.
Chapter Three
The week passed slowly. Anna spent the afternoon in the dress shop on the list being measured up and was told to come back in a few days. The shop keeper looked at the note and said everything was already paid for.
How many other women has he done this for? she wondered.
She had the bank note broken at the grocers took one weeks worth of wages out and hid the rest in her boots.
Each day she would go out as if heading to work, and instead would go and sit at The Pope’s Penny and hope the mysterious Lord would come by and speak to her. But she did not see him until the next week when she picked up the parcel of clothes from the dress shop and still wearing her usual work clothes went to the address.
It was a fashionable hotel in London, the kind at which a woman like her would hardly get to the counter without being asked to leave. However they appeared to be expecting her. When she arrived at the concierge desk the man behind it leaned forward, saw the package and without saying a word took down a key from the hook behind him and handed it to her.
‘I will have a boy let his Lordship know that you have arrived. Please make yourself comfortable in your room.’
The number on the key said 311, so she climbed the flights of stairs to the third floor and entered the room. It was a beautiful room with a large four poster bed, a large gas fire, and in a bathroom to one side a huge freestanding copper tub with another fireplace and a copper tank for heating the water.
She placed the package on the bed and sat in front of the fire wondering how long his Lordship would be.
At lunchtime there came a knock on the door, and she ran to it excited to see the handsome aristocrat. Instead it was a waiter with a large steak, boiled potatoes and a glass of sherry.
‘Compliments of his Lordship,’ was all that the waiter said.
‘Is he here?’ Anna asked and the waiter left, saying nothing, giving nothing away in his face.
So she ate the meal and waited by the fire some more. The clock read almost three in the afternoon when the door opened and the Duke entered wearing a very formal greatcoat, and with a narrow walking stick of ash under his arm with his top hat. He entered and stood by the door, closed it and held out his hat and cane.
She got out the chair and came over to where he was standing. Her hands had no sooner closed on the hat and cane when he gripped them harder, refusing to let them go. ‘Kneel down,’ he said with such clear command that Anna felt she had little choice. She knelt hands still wrapped around hat and cane. He let go, and she placed them on the chair by the door.
Looking up at his tall body, muscular and well dress she realised she felt something far more animalistic towards him than she had ever felt before. Desire gnawed her mind.
He walked around her with an appraising looking on his face.
‘Did you bring the clothes?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Good, if you are going to be my concubine, there are a few things I expect from you. Discretion, obedience, and cleanliness. Give me your hands.’ He took them and looked at the coarse skin, the ingrained dirt, the blackened nails. Anna felt herself blushing as he looked. His hand was so large, so strong compared to her own. ‘This is no good,’ he said. ‘Stay here.’
He went into the bathroom and there was the sound of him lighting the fire under the water tank and then the sound of him pumping water into a bucket and the splash of the water being poured into the tub.
‘Come in here,’ he called.
She stood feeling a sharp pain in her knees where she had been kneeling, and entered the bathroom. He had flung his coat over the back of a wooden chair, had undone his cravat and rolled his sleeves up.
‘Take them off,’ he said.
Anna looked at him, his arms were wet from the water and the work of drawing water, along with the heat of the fire had brought a shimmer of sweat to his brow. She wanted more than anything to please him, all thought of church and sin and the modesty of women fell away.
She unlaced her dress and let it fall, revealing the grubby drawers she wore tucked into her boots. Her corset fell away next revealing her breasts to him, he looked on admiringly and came and stood close to her.
When she looked down she could see the line where the dirt of the stopped and the paleness beneath her dress began, she could make out the delicate network of blood vessels in the taught skin of her breasts and when she looked at him his eyes were admiring her.
Her drawers went down next, revealing the soft hair of her sex and the wet seam which she knew was his desire. Her desire was for him to have it too. Then at last she pulled her boots and stockings off and was standing naked and vulnerable before him.
His hand reached out and felt one of her breasts, the thumb circling the nipple, fingers testing the firmness of the flesh. Then he stepped back and gestured to the tub. ‘Stand there,’ he said.
Her feet sank into the one or two inches of water at the bottom and she shivered, it was freezing cold. She felt goose pimples rise on her skin and she hugged herself.
At the water tank Quentin opened the tap and filled a bucket with warm water which he brought back, lifted above her head and slowly poured over her soaking her hair and letting the water run down her arms and chest. He did this twice more until she was thoroughly soaked. The bath was a few inches deeper but the water around her feet was now warm. The water on her skin however cooled quickly and soon she was shivering.
Quentin took up a bar of soap and very gently began to work the soap into her hair. His hands were firm but gentle massaging her scalp and running through her hair until the soap was thoroughly worked in. Then the hard slick waxiness of the soap was making large circles on her back, pressing into her muscles and massaging them, slipping over her in a slick rush. He rubbed her arms down, soaped the hair of her armpits then turned her around.
The soap slid between her breasts sending a prickle of anticipation rushing from her nipples to her sex. He dragged the soap across her collar bone, her neck then back down circling inwards towards her nipples.
She moaned a little in pleasure. ‘Not a sound,’ he whispered gently. ‘You must do as I say. Not a sound until I tell you.’
She buried the whimper of pleasure that she longed to let out as he pressed the hard edge of the soap into her nipple and circled it. His other hand was massaging her other breast, working the soap up to a lather.
That hand held on sending its electric rush of pleasure from nipple to sex as he moved the soap over her belly until he was rubbing it into the soft thatch of her pubic hair.
He knelt now and with both hands soaped her thighs inside and out, ran his fingers through her pubic hair again and again, each time only brushing her sex. Then he pressed the soap between her lips and she couldn’t prevent the gasp of pleasure as he ran the bar of soap backwards and forwards between the fleshy seams of her genitals.
‘I said no sounds.’ He sounded stern, authoritative. ‘What a pretty cunt you have,’ he said. She had never heard the word before, ‘cunt’. And, she murmured it aloud.
She shook her head no, still trying not to make a sound.
‘Good, I will be the first.’
He pulled the soap away and pushed a soapy finger inside her. ‘Oh, God!’ she cried out.
‘Quietly now,’ he said. The pleasure was like nothing she had every felt, and it built and built towards something she knew was coming but was unsure exactly what it might be.
Then he pulled his hands away and it began to die. ‘No,’ she cried and slid her own hand to replace his. His hands closed about her wrists. ‘In good time. First you need to learn your lesson for failing to obey me. I told you not to make a sound, and three times you defied me.’
He refilled the bucker and poured it over her slowly washing away the suds. It was so hot that it stung her skin raw and steam rose up off of her. He refilled it again and with rough hands and the cloth scrubbed the remaining soap from her washing it off with short applications of the scalding water. By the time he had finished scrubbing and splashing her her skin was bright red all over. Then he walked over to the pump and refilled the two smaller buckets there as well as the bigger one he had been using so far.
The first bucketful he threw in on wave. The water was freezing and after the heat of the bathwater it stung in a whole new way. Before breath had rushed back into her body after the shock of the first bucket the second small bucket hit her square in the face. The bigger bucket he took more time with pouring it slowly over her head. She wanted to cry, it hurt and the shivering left her feeling vulnerable, and still in the warmth of her belly she was frantic for the promised pleasure that all this had been building towards.
Her eyes were closed to the deluge and blinded she stood there as he towelled her skin dry roughly and led her through to the bedroom. He leaned in and kissed her, his warm lips on her cold, and his breath was sweet. She opened her mouth and his tongue flicked into her. The warmth in her belly began to spread like fire.
He pulled away and opened the packages from the dress shop, a simple grey dress of wool and lace he hung over a chair then produced a black corset with with a cloth rose over one breast, black silk gloves and stockings, and a choker with a dark blue stone set in it.
‘Put these on for me,’ he said, sitting down on the chair and looking at her. The corset she began lacing with skilful hands. When it was loosely threaded she pulled it over her head, settled it in place and asked him to assist her. He did so. One hard pull of the strings that nearly blew the air out of her and her tied her off.
‘You’ve done that before then,’ she said, feeling the whale bone gripping her like a vice. He smiled and simply bid her continue.
The stockings were soft on her legs and ran up almost the full length, she found the corset came with garters attached and she carefully pinned the straps to the silk. The gloves too were a perfect fit and made her feel like a Lady at the Opera.
Although, she imagined, I would be wearing rather more than this to the Theatre I would hope.
Quentin now stood and placed his hands on her waist, he leaned forwards and said, ‘I am going to give you the greatest pleasure you have ever felt. But first you will earn it, by pleasing me.’
‘Yes, sir,’ she said.
He sat on the chair and pulled her onto his lap.
‘Undo my britches.’
She opened her mouth to say: Yes. But he put a finger to them. The strings gave way and she was able to reach into his trousers and feel the warm hard flesh that awaited her. ‘Pull my cock out,’ he said.
Again she opened her mouth and this time he pushed his finger in. Anna felt the tips of his fingers slide over her tongue, playing with the softnes of it and the hardness of her teeth. She sucked gently on his fingers and felt his cock move in his trousers.
She wrapped her silk gloves around his member and drew it out. It was huge, she knew enough to know it was supposed to go inside her, but she couldn’t see how it could possibly fit.
‘Stroke it,’ he said. So she did. Feeling the way the skin moved over the flesh beneath, the way the silk moved over the skin, the feeling of each rib in its structure, the veins, and the smooth purple swelling of the head. As she straddled him her cunt was bare and close to this she would just have to rock forward and she could press him into her, but his hands on her waist kept her back, and his legs spread a little between hers kept her from finding anything but air to press herself against.
The fingers moving in her mouth gave her an idea. ‘I gaan go gip ip,’ she mumbled. He pulled his fingers away from her tongue and she repeated, ‘I want to kiss it.’
He lifted her up and lay her on the bed on her front then standing in front of her, pushing the the bright purple head into her face. It jumped slightly in time to his heart beat, and she kissed the tip, still stroking it with her silk gloves. He seemed to like that so she licked it, pressing her face against it and licking down the seam of the underside, or circling the head with her tongue. His his began to thrust and when she kissed the end again she opened her mouth and let him thrust it into her mouth like it was my cunt.
He enjoyed this thrusting harder and harder into her groaning and moaning as the pleasure built. She wanted him to enjoy it, and the thought of how much pleasure she brought him, how much he desired her beauty, made the fire in her belly rise to a fever sweat. She ground her hip on the bed sheets but couldn’t get the friction she needed.
Something had changed his gasping was becoming frantic and as she pulled away to ask if he was okay, she felt a shudder run through him and a thick stream of salty liquid squirted into her mouth.
She pulled back and a second squirt splashed her face and neck. Panicking and wanting to avoid making a mess she lunged forward and took as much of his cock in her mouth as she could he continued to thrust filling her mouth with the salty sticky liquid with an odd savoury smell. Finally he collapsed and she was able to sit up feeling his seed escaping and dripping down her chin unsure what to do with it she steeled herself and swallowed it down.
Before she could wipe her face or chest he had grabbed her hands and tied them behind her back with his cravat.
‘What now?’ she asked alarmed.
‘Good girl,’ he said. ‘Now it is your turn. There is a reward for girls who do as well with their mouths as you do. But let me show you just how good it feels.’
He tossed her further up the bed onto her back so he body was pressing her arms and bindings down into the mattress.
‘Yes, sir,’ she said. She hoped her tone let him understand that she was not just assenting, she was begging him for the promised joy.
Chapter Four
He moved so that his knees pinned her legs apart and leaned forwards, and said to her, ‘No noise until I say you can. Not a peep.’
Then his hand roughly yanked the bust of her corset down to bare her breasts and he took on in his mouth suckling at it with tongue and lips and teeth.
Anna felt that pleasure building again, the thrilling rise of potency in her loins. Each swirl of his tongue, each time he sucked, or bit, or pulled at the nipple, kissed the round of flesh beneath it, or ran his tongue up the slope towards where his seed was drying on her neck and chin, it felt like the earlier movement of his fingers inside her.
She could feel her own juices dripping out of her in anticipation. Every fibre of her being was longing for him to enter her. But still he teased her, licking and massaging her nipples.
Then he stood back and dropped to his knees. She was so weak with desire she couldn’t even raise her head enough to see him though she could feel his shoulders beneath her thighs and his hot breath on her sex.
He kissed her thighs and she could feel the suction of his mouth, so hard it stung, each hickey he left behind retained a pleasurable ache. It was not enough and she tried to pull his face closer to her cunt with her thighs, but his muscular hands kept her legs firmly apart and held his face away from where she wanted with a torturous skill, frustrating her and r
endering her madder and madder with desperation for his touch.
She wanted to beg, but his command to remain silent rang in her ears, and she made no noise louder than a panting. Her breath was coming faster and faster, she could feel her heart beating hard against her ribs, in her throat and as a heavy, hard throbbing in her stomach.
Her nipples were so hard they hurt, her clitoris too, and when eventually he pressed the swampy heat of his tongue against her clit the pleasure that ran through her seemed to fill her up and push out all other thoughts.
But it was just the beginning. His tongue began to circle her clit, each time turning the intensity of the pleasure up and up towards some terrifying critical point like water backed up behind a dam.
He stopped and she wondered why. ‘No. Goddamn. Noise,’ he said.
She began to understand about the tightening loop of rope, from his talk of breaking horses.
‘Yes, sir,’ she whispered.
He let her lie there, longing for his touch again and eventually he moved back and applied his tongue once more. The waters built again, faster this time.
Then he slid his fingers into her again. She was so wet they slipped in without resistance. She felt her cunt grip them involuntarily, the tight ribbed muscles clamping down. The tips of his fingers curled up, pressing against the front walls of her cunt, and in one gushing explosion of pleasure she came.
She bit her lips trying not to scream, though within her mind she was bellowing every blasphemous phrase she had ever heard. She felt all control leave her and she squirted hard in his face, legs shaking, stomach clenching. He stood up face soaked.
‘You can make all the noise you want now,’ he said, undoing his cock standing to attention again. ‘You’re going to take every inch of me.’
He was as good as his word. Even as her cunt clenched with the aftershocks of the orgasm he pushed his cock into her, the feeling was incredible, his whole length pressed into her. Her cervix stretched deep into her, and it felt as if her entire stomach had been crammed full of it, stretching not just her cunt but her whole body to accommodate it.
Rough Erotica Page 24