“Here at Château Follet, I shall be your master,” he declared, “and you are my student and wench. Is that understood?” When she made no answer, he repeated, “Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir,” she said in a small voice.
He was pleased with the proper respect that she was voicing to him, but he said, “Louder.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good. Restate the roles for me.”
“Sir?”
“What is my role here?”
She refrained from looking him in the eye. “You are the master.”
“And what are you?”
“Your student.”
“And?”
She squirmed before responding, “Your wench.”
“And why are you my wench?” he asked as he continued to saunter around her. He eyed her arse, which he had spanked earlier. He would have to attend it more.
“I hardly know.”
“Is it because you stand stripped to the buff before a man?”
“I suppose.”
“Is it because you came here seeking debauchery?”
She nodded.
“Answer me.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Is it because you have allowed a man you know not to touch you, to fondle you?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Is it because you have spent at the hands of a stranger?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Is it because you commit adultery with ease?”
Her head snapped up and she met his gaze. Her eyes held emotion he could not place.
“For which you are now being schooled,” he provided.
“Yes, sir.”
Her voice shook, and he thought she might cry. She lowered her head. Cupping her chin, he lifted her gaze to meet his. “Worry not. I shall return you to your husband a better woman.”
Her eyes widened.
“You do not think it possible? Tell me, how do you pleasure your husband?”
“He does not seek pleasure from me.”
“And if he did? How would you provide it?”
“I know not. I am not versed in such matters. I imagine it a significant reason for why he has himself a mistress.”
“Would you like to be well versed in pleasuring your husband?”
She nodded.
“Would you like to be more proficient than his mistress?”
Her eagerness was writ upon her face.
“I promise you, by the end of the evening, you will know precisely how to please your husband. We will begin by caressing your body.” He went to stand behind her and placed a hand upon her shoulder. He heard a hitch in her breath. He slid his hand down her arm. “You must not be ashamed of your body.”
He grazed the back of two fingers along her hip, up her waist, and toward her breast.
“I cannot pretend I am a beauty when I am not,” she resisted.
“Shhh. Do only as I say. Touch yourself.”
She only stood awkwardly.
“Touch yourself,” he said again.
“Where?”
“’Where, sir.’”
“Where, sir?”
“The breasts. They are fine assets of yours.”
She placed her hand over the orbs.
“Now caress them.”
She gave herself a pat. He almost laughed at the chasteness. “More. Worship them with your hands.”
Again she stood immobile and awkward.
“Squeeze them.”
She gave her breasts a squeeze.
With a shake of the head, he reached around her. “Like this.”
He cupped both breasts and gave the mounds a lascivious press. He kneaded the fullness of her flesh.
“They are exquisite, are they not?” he murmured as warmth percolated in his loins. “Answer me.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Your turn.” He withdrew his hands and went to stand in front of her to watch her replicate his motions. “Sink your fingers into them, feel their suppleness and exalt in their grandness. Now play with the nipples.”
She hesitated, and he suspected the buds were still sore from his prior attentions.
“If you do not attend them, I will,” he threatened.
She placed a forefinger over one nipple and flicked it gently. She shivered.
“Now pinch them.”
After a pause, she pinched the nipple.
“Good. Now pull the succulent little bud.”
She did a quick tug.
“Harder.”
She tugged again, groping herself, pressing and rolling the mounds over her chest.
“I assure you that your husband would witness this with great pleasure. Don't forget the nipples.”
This time she gave them a proper tug.
“Very good. Now lick them.”
“Sir?”
Her breasts were large and malleable enough that she could do it. To assist her, he cupped the bottom of a breast and pushed it upward. With his other hand he pushed her head down toward the waiting nipple.
“Lick,” he commanded.
Her tongue emerged and gave a tentative lick.
“More.”
Heat traveled to his head. She gave herself two more licks.
“Now take it into your mouth.”
His cock throbbed as he watched her enclose her mouth over her nipple.
“Suck it.”
More of her rosy areola disappeared into her mouth. The urge to ravish her came on sudden and strong, but he held himself in check.
“Now the other,” he directed.
On her own, she pushed her other breast up to her mouth. After giving the nipple a few licks, she took it into her mouth and sucked.
“Well done. Now you may play with your quim.”
She balked.
“Does it disconcert you to fondle yourself before a stranger?”
“Of course.”
“Do you find it lewd, wanton?”
She nodded.
“Humiliating?”
She bit her bottom lip and nodded again.
“Then this shall be both pleasure and penance. You may sit upon the bed if you wish.”
She went to the bed and sat down but did not touch yourself.
“Spread your legs, my dear.”
When she hesitated still, he went over and reached for her nipple. Immediately, she spread her legs. He took her right hand and placed it at her mons.
“Show me how you pleasure yourself.”
“I do not,” she murmured.
He lifted his brows. “You do not bring yourself pleasure? Not even in the privacy of your bedchamber?”
She shook her head.
“You have not touched yourself there?”
“On occasion...but I do not bring myself to spend.”
“Why not?”
“I was afraid to.”
“Afraid? But why?”
She knit her brows in thought. “I feared doing so would overwhelm me.”
“But you spent tonight—more than once.”
She looked up at him. “It was forced upon me.”
He returned a wry smile. “Not entirely, madam.”
She looked down once more. She must know she had played no small part in what had transpired.
“Do you mean to tell me that you had never spent till now?” he inquired.
She nodded without meeting his gaze. He was silent in disbelief. He knew his wife to be uncomfortable with him in bed, but he had assumed she at least knew how to pleasure herself.
“Then this is an occasion worth celebrating,” he said at last.
“Celebrate a sin?” she replied with dismay.
“You enjoyed spending, did you not?” he asked, approaching her.
At his nearness, she sat at attention.
Hoping to jolt her out of her guilt and remorse, he said in a stern tone, “Answer me.”
She gave a tentative nod.
“With words.”
“I d
id.”
“And do you wish to spend again?”
“No...or, perhaps...”
“Yes or no?”
“Yes.”
“Louder.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then touch yourself.”
She hesitated.
“There will be a price to pay if you do not follow my directions promptly.”
At that, she placed her hand between her thighs.
“Now stroke yourself.”
Timidly, she grazed her middle finger along her folds.
Crossing his arms, he stood directly in front of her. “Spread your legs wider.”
She followed his directive less tentatively this time. The area of his groin tightened to see the supple lips of her cunnie.
“Do you feel that nub in the center?”
“Yes.”
“Do you know what it is called?”
“No, sir.”
“The clitoris. Do you know it has no bodily function but that of generating pleasure? Its nature is purely carnal. It enjoys being touched, does it not?”
“I suppose.”
“You suppose? Then you must attend it more properly.”
Stepping toward her, he pushed her hand more forcefully into her flesh. She gasped.
“Stroke yourself in earnest,” he directed.
“But... this – this ought to be a private act.”
“This what?”
“This touching of oneself.”
“There is a name for such an act. Do you know what it is?”
She flushed.
“You know the word. Say it.”
She blushed even deeper, and he could not resist triumphing a little in her discomfort.
“You make me wait too often, my dear,” he warned.
“M—Masturbation,” she mumbled.
“You allowed me to touch you there earlier. How is this different?”
“Because it is. Because you're standing there, doing nothing but watching.”
He grinned. “It distresses you?”
“To say the least!”
He chuckled. “Then let us do it together. If it will ease your distress to know that I too have employment.”
He unbuttoned his fall and pulled out his stiff erection. She glanced away in modesty at first but then stole several glances at his cock. He rubbed himself until his shaft was at full length. She was now staring at it, taking in the flare of the head and the ridges of the shaft.
“You will fondle yourself, and I will do the same,” he said. “Now, my dear.”
Her lashes fluttered but she resumed stroking herself.
“That is not so hard, is it?” he inquired. “Does your clitoris not enjoy your petting?”
Her brow furrowed. Her caresses had become more purposeful.
“Answer me.”
“Yes,” she murmured.
“Address me properly.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good. Have you noticed how swollen it is? It wants more of your touch. It is a greedy, wanton little bud. We must attend its need, its purpose. For our efforts, it will return that most divine of carnal bliss.”
“I could not—I have never—”
“But you shall. We shall not stop until you do.”
She frowned in worry.
“Lie back and close your eyes,” he advised, “but continue your caresses.”
She did as he bid.
“Now with your other hand, you will take a breast and squeeze it, caress it, exalt in the lushness of your flesh.”
His cock was hard as flint as he watched her naked form displayed upon the bed, one hand of hers upon the breast, the other between her legs.
“But how naughty of you to be touching yourself in such fashion.”
Her eyes flew open. “But you told me—”
He smiled. “And how naughty of you to enjoy it. But you are a naughty little wench are you not, Tru—truly?”
He had nearly spoken her name.
“For only the naughtiest of wenches would come to a place like the Château Follett,” he continued. “Only sluts would spend for a man not their husband.”
She whimpered. He should have refrained from making such a statement. He had to be careful for he did not want her guilt to interfere with her arousal.
“Tell me you are a naughty wench.”
“I am a naughty wench.”
“Louder.”
“I am a naughty wench!”
Her fingers quickened against herself.
“Tell me you are a wanton.”
“I am a wanton.”
“Now make yourself spend.”
She agitated her fingers fiercely against her clitoris.
“Are you close to spending, my dear?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then look at me. I want to see into your eyes when you spend.”
She gazed at him but soon lost focus as her arousal climbed toward its peak. Her mouth fell open. Her brows knit. Her back arched. Then came the spasms, the trembles of her body falling over the precipice. A soft cry accompanied the paroxysm.
“That, my dear, was a beautiful sight,” he said after the last of the quivering had left her body and she had relaxed into the bed. He stroked his hardened desire. “And now you will attend my arousal.”
“YOU SHOULD APPEAR MORE eager, my dear,” he said of her slight frown. “For our sex, seeing a woman desirous of our member does much to inflate our pride.”
“What is it you wish me to do?” she asked, a touch nervous.
He gestured to the floor before him. “Come here.”
She climbed off the bed.
“On your knees.”
Thus situated, her mouth was at the perfect height. He stroked himself as he took a step toward her. His member was stiff and inches from her face. She kept her eyes demurely downcast.
“Look at it. Is it not a beautiful instrument?” he asked.
“Yes, sir.”
“Admire it.”
She fixed her gaze, slightly cross eyed, at the pole pointed at her.
“With words,” he clarified.
“It is a beautiful instrument.”
“Did you enjoy having it inside of you?”
When she hesitated and looked away, he jolted her to attention by tugging her chin up.
“Yes, sir.”
“Tell me you enjoyed having me inside you.”
“I enjoyed having you inside me.”
“Did you spend upon my member?”
“I did.”
“Why?”
She returned a puzzled look.
“Why did you enjoy having me inside you? Why did you spend?”
After a moment of thought, she answered, “Because I am a wanton?”
“Well said. Your intelligence pleases me. Since you enjoy a man’s member, I shall grant you more of it. You will take me into your mouth.”
She balked. “Again?”
“You will learn to take it properly. Your husband will thank me for it. Do you not wish to please your husband?”
“I do, but...what you ask...”
“Is what? Wrong? Wanton? Devilish? It is all that, but trust me, your husband will have a newfound appreciation for you if you acquire this skill.”
She did not appear convinced.
“The swallowing of a man’s member is one of the greatest gifts you can give your husband in the bedchamber.”
A drop of seed had leaked from the tip of his erection. He rubbed it over the head.
“Now open your mouth.”
Still dubious, she stared at his shaft. He pinched her nose shut, forcing her to take in air through her mouth. When her lips parted, he shoved himself between them. She started gagging immediately.
He gripped the back of her head. “It would have gone more smoothly had you obeyed me with promptness.”
While holding her head in place, he gave her a reprieve and withdrew himself from her mouth. “Now if you wish me to go sl
owly and gently, you will do a better job of obeying. Do you understand?”
“Yes... sir.”
“Now let us try that again. Open your mouth.”
She opened her mouth, and he placed the crown of his cock inside her orifice.
“Now close your lips, not your teeth, about the tip.”
He had to close his eyes and take a deep breath when her moist heat encased him. He had not fully expected she would comply but was thrilled with her present acquiescence, even if she did not know that it was her own husband's cock she took.
“Now a little more,” he said, pushing another inch into her. “You will find it easier if you stay relaxed.”
He slid the second inch into her. The rubbing of his cock upon her tongue was heavenly. But she started to gag. He pulled out of her and waited for her to collect herself.
“I cannot do it,” she protested.
“You can and you will. If you have the patience to learn how to play the Concerto in C Major by Mozart, you have the ability to learn to swallow a man’s member. Let us try again.”
She parted her lips. He replaced his cock and attempted three inches this time. She gagged once more.
“Relax,” he reminded her.
But their next attempt led to more gagging and coughing.
“Stand up,” he decided.
With relief, she scrambled to her feet. He reached a hand between her thighs and caressed the moist flesh there. She gave a soft moan. He fondled her clitoris, slick with the nectar of her arousal, till she panted and whimpered. He slid a digit into her quim. She was a furnace of desire.
“My God,” he breathed. “Do you know how hot and wet you are?”
“No, sir,” she replied weakly.
When he curled his finger and stroked, she gasped. He fit a second digit in while his thumb took over the ministrations upon her clitoris. Her body began to tremble.
“It would seem you wish to spend again, my slut,” he noted after several minutes. “Do you?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then you must earn the privilege.”
He pushed her back down onto her knees and pointed his cock at her mouth. “Open.”
Like a hatchling waiting for nourishment, she opened her mouth. He placed himself inside her. She stifled her gag and closed her lips about his shaft. She had but half his length, but it felt wondrous. He fisted his hand into her hair and pushed more of himself in. He could see her fighting the urge to choke.
“Relax,” he urged in a soothing tone, “and keep your mouth closed. Yes, like that. Good.”
Slowly, he withdrew, relishing the tug of her lips upon his girth. As gently as he could, he eased himself back in. For a moment, he savored the sensation of being cradled upon her tongue before repeating the motion, making sure he did not push too far. When she became more accustomed to having him in her mouth, he attempted more. His cods were boiling, and he had to clench the muscles of his arse to keep from shoving into her. Pulling out, he saw his shaft glisten with her saliva.
Surrendering to the Baron (A Steamy Regency Romance Book 7) Page 6