“Spread wider.” Now, right now, he was the master. She moved her legs wide apart, and with a grunt and grimace of concentration, he inched another finger into her. “Fuck, you’re ready. Always wanting more, aren’t you, you greedy little vixen?”
“God, Edward, please come into me. It’s been too long.”
“Shut it, my lady. You know better than to dictate things now. Dear, oh dear. Can’t let that go unpunished, can I?”
Her eyes widened and she threw her head back and wailed, half in despair, half in rapturous delight.
“Get up,” he demanded, pulling his fingers out suddenly and tugging her off the table before spinning her around and pushing her roughly down onto it. He pressed down on the small of her back, holding her in place, while throwing her skirts up with his other hand, exposing her smooth rounded arse.
“No drawers, just like I asked. Perhaps you are listening to me after all. Still, now that you’re like this, there’s only one thing to do.”
She shuddered in a breath and waited, gripping the far edge of the table so hard her knuckles blanched.
Edward brought his right hand up high, his face contorted with determination, and he hurled his palm down onto her with brutal force. The countess released a sharp cry as the sting tore into her. But her servant didn’t give her a chance to recover. Drawing his hand up quickly again, he then brought it down on the other cheek so that a pink glow of four fingers and thumb bloomed on the pale skin. He chuckled. She moaned.
Isabella lay bent over before him as Edward set about a regular spanking, varying his strokes, some a mere tickle, some a ferocious pelt. She took each one—she sought each one, her body craving every sensation he deigned to give her. By now the pain had dulled into blissful floating heat and she stared blearily ahead, the copper pots on the opposite wall dancing before her lust-ravaged eyes.
Edward delivered two more searing final blows, his breathing heavy. Isabella gripped the table for dear life. She would slump to the ground if she didn’t.
“There. You’re as red as one of Cook’s strawberry tarts. Come to think of it, I’m just goin’ t’ have t’ eat you.”
With that, he knelt swiftly and took her burning cheeks in both hands, spreading them apart and making her groan with ripe agony. And before the burn had time to fade, he plunged his tongue into her dripping quim. Her right leg gave an involuntary twitch as pleasure hurtled her closer to the precipice. She sobbed, incapable of words.
Edward’s tongue had a knack of exciting places other tongues couldn’t reach, and even in this position he was able to swirl and suck and drag on her swollen clit with perfect accuracy. It didn’t take long. Isabella came so hard he had to grip her arse brutally yet again to steady her. She juddered uncontrollably as wave upon wave of melting pleasure ravaged her abused body, drawing the most profound groan of fulfilment from her.
As soon as she had settled he was on his feet, releasing his heaving erection. Placing his ample girth at her opening, without warning he thrust in to the hilt in one go, jolting her against the table so that her thighs were rammed against the hard edge. Another cry.
Edward leaned over, clasping her wrists and pulling her arms back. Crossing them behind her, he held them in one large firm hand and started to move. Fast and brutal, working-class cock ploughed relentlessly into upper-class cunt. She was sobbing with each plunge, loving it, taking it, wanting more and more.
Her cunt gripped him, tightening upon him, preparing. But he held back, slowing his strokes.
“Ask me. Ask for it this time.”
She could only moan—her orgasm was poised to rob her of thought.
“Fucking ask for it!” he demanded, gripping her wrists and ploughing ever more powerfully into her, hitting her sweet spot each time, making her task increasingly improbable.
“Please…please…” she mumbled.
“Please what…my…La…dy?” Each syllable was punctuated by another driving thrust of hard, thick cock.
“Please, please let me come, Edward!” She screamed it out, desperate, helpless, her body so alive, so hot and tight and ready.
At first he didn’t answer. She wept for release, wept for pleasure, wept for him inside her.
“All right then. Come for me, Isabella.”
And she did. With a rising wail, Isabella shattered, her face pressed hard into the wood of the kitchen table. She let the sound rise from her in tune with the shaking of her body. On it went, on as his cock didn’t slow, until she knew she could take no more.
He withdrew suddenly, and with smooth but certain strength, spun her over so that she was lying back, facing him. Edward dug his hands into her hips, pushed again into her, then, his eyes intent on his cock as it plunged in and out, he released in long bursts, cum spilling hot and plentiful into her depths.
They didn’t speak for a time. At length he pulled out, observing his seed leaking from her, dragged out with his still-firm cock. His hair was dark and damp and he ran a hand through it in an attempt to tame it.
The countess took some time to even attempt to stand. She wasn’t sure her legs would function. Her backside throbbed agonisingly. She wanted it no other way.
After a while, she dared push herself up and found—luckily—that she did in fact remain upright. Her skirts fell around her and she glanced down to adjust her bodice.
Then, raising herself tall, she cast a dismissive eye over the valet. “The others are returning soon. You had better tidy yourself up and clean the table, Marham.”
Edward averted his eyes, placed his hands by his side and held his chin up, returning immediately to deferential servant. “Yes, my lady.”
“I understand we’re down a footman and that you are waiting at table, tonight?”
“Yes, my lady.”
“We have important guests, Marham. Make sure all is in order.”
“Very well, my lady.”
And she turned and walked out. Not in a straight line, admittedly, but she did walk.
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About the Author
I have played with words most of my life and now have the time to put my dreams and fantasies on to paper. I’m a published poet and I try to put poetic images into my prose. I endeavour to express my ideas in a manner that will entertain and amuse.
I live in the aptly named Bay of Plenty, New Zealand, close to the coast and its long white beaches.
Email: [email protected]
Virginnia loves to hear from readers. You can find her contact information, website and author biography at http://www.total-e-bound.com.
Also by Virginnia De Parte
At Your Service: Memoirs of Lady Montrose
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