He smiles and says nothing, but climbs lithely inside with me, sending the level of water rising a good few inches as he seats himself opposite me. “I have dreamed of this moment, Lydia,” he purrs. “To bathe with you has been a fantasy of mine for some time.”
I blink at him, unable to think of anything intelligent to say in response, and my vacant expression once again makes him laugh. “Come to me,” he says, beckoning me forward with one long finger.
“There is no room for me, Thomas,” I say, bewildered by his request.
“Sit on my lap, my love,” he answers. “I want to feel you against me in the water.”
I want to protest again, and tell him that it is surely improper for even a wife to do such a thing, but I do not dare. Instead, with the nervous energy raging through my body, I draw myself up to my knees and crawl toward him. I meet his legs at once and am forced to straddle them as I move forward. He draws his arms up to the edges of the tub as I approach, watching me intently as I press myself against him. The water swills around my hips as I gradually move myself into place, and as I lower my body down, my bottom pushes against his hard length. I gasp at the sensation.
He eyes me, smiling. “So now you feel what you do to me?” he purrs. His arms move down simultaneously, the left one cocooning me tightly at the waist, and the right one pressing into my behind and pulling me against his excited organ.
I look down into the water, anxious and yet excited about what is transpiring. “I had no idea,” I mumble by means of explanation.
“Of course not,” he replies. “But this is the effect you have, Lydia. Every time you challenge me, each time I have spanked you, and for sure when I see your wonderful body.”
Gently he shifts my weight and draws me forward a few inches, so that his hardness presses against the apex of my thighs. I gape at him, unable to articulate the feelings I am processing. How, I wonder, can such a large organ hope to enter me? And yet the undeniable urge to permit it to do so is compelling.
“Thomas,” I murmur, but he catches the word with his mouth. His kiss is consuming, his lips hot and aggressive, as though they have been waiting a lifetime to devour me in this way. He draws away all too soon, leaving me breathless and hungry for him.
Raising his hips upward, his hard length rubs directly against my own wetness. My legs, forced open as I straddle him, are unable to close and protect the area, and the sensation is like nothing else I have ever experienced. Even on the occasions that Thomas has brought me to climax with his fingers, I had never felt this way. I look to him, wide-eyed, knowing that I should protest, and yet needing for him to continue.
“Move against me,” he purrs. “Do not be afraid; it will bring us both pleasure.”
As though they hear his instructions, I find that my hips are already moving on their own accord. I draw them back, and then slowly slide them forward again, meeting his now throbbing organ and grinding against it. He lets out a low groan from next to me, and the sound inspires me to continue. I press forward once again, the contact with my tingling nub producing the most exquisite sensation. His right hand clutches at my bottom, assisting with each movement as I flex my hips forward and backward against him.
“Ly-di-a.” His voice is almost a growl, and the strain in it causes me to look up to his face for the first time since I began moving.
“Should I stop?” I ask, concerned that I am somehow hurting him.
His other hand passes from my waist to the underside of me, finding my moist folds in the bath water. “Do not dare!” he cries, and slowly he plunges a digit into my wetness.
The sensation makes me heady and I arch my back, pushing against him almost out of instinct. “Oh, Thomas!” I call out, apparently unable to control my own words.
“Don’t stop, my love,” he says, meeting my gaze. “Pleasure me and I will pleasure you.”
I feel his finger pursuing me ruthlessly from under the water, and I push myself back against him again and again, seeking that special feeling as our most intimate parts connect. Seeing my pleasure build, he releases my left buttock, his right hand instead finding my full left breast. Massaging it roughly underneath, he raises the nipple to his waiting mouth. I watch, dumbstruck as he closes his hot lips into a tight vacuum, sucking intently on the most sensitive area. The feeling is heavenly, and I arch further, encouraging him to suckle me as I press heavily against his own waiting manhood.
We move in the water, drawn on by our mutual desire in a near silent exchange of pleasure. As Thomas moves to my right breast, I know I am close to the brink. The finger inside me now slips in and out so effortlessly that I fear I must cry out soon, or be overwhelmed by the growing emotions. As his mouth suckles my bud, his finger finds me and urges me on toward the climax of my pleasure. Instinctively I reach for him, pressing my hands into the soft hair at his chest, and then using his shoulder to take my weight as I rise up in the water and push myself alongside his hard length. I am lost to the sensations, my eyes shut and my lips parted in wordless ecstasy.
All at once there is another finger upon me, and this one pushes gently into the dark opening at my rear. My eyes fly open in shock. “Thomas!” I cry, unsure if the word is meant as an exclamation or a question.
I see him smile, his lids hooded with the rapture he feels. “Take it, Lydia,” he purrs. “I will know you in every way.”
Captured by the sensual order, I finally lose control, falling forward onto his chest as I spasm around his digits, both lodged deep inside of me. I freefall, grinding my hips in a reflexive way, as I hear the most guttural sounds coming from my own lips. My head is swimming with colour as desire floods through me. In this moment I exist only here and now, as pleasure for both myself and my new husband. Once my breathing has returned to some normality, Thomas withdraws his hand slowly, sending a new wave of shuddering convulsions coursing through me. As my body shakes, I am reminded once again of his own hardness. My hands are drawn toward his organ, and I find it throbbing with need.
Acting on instinct alone, I raise my head to look at him. “Thomas,” I say, my voice breathless with spent desire. “Let me pleasure you. Show me how?”
He grins, lifting me from his lap and placing me down in the tub as he raises himself up into a standing position. Hands on his hips, he looks down on me like some sort of god. “Kneel, Lydia,” he commands. “Take me in your mouth.”
I obey without question, wanting inherently to know how my husband tastes. A part of me realises that it is not proper for a lady to desire such things, but I rationalise that a wife should obey the will of her spouse, so I comply. Face to face with his manhood, I draw in a deep breath. It is even longer than I recall it from earlier. The girth too is impressive, and I use both hands to grasp him, as I examine the veiny tip.
Slowly, hesitantly, I run my tongue around the end, eliciting an appreciative growl from above me. Bolstered by the positive noises, I take the tip in my mouth and push my lips down and around his long shaft. The length of him soon consumes my mouth, and I am overcome by the salty taste of his arousal. I drop back for air, before once again taking him within my mouth. This time I am braver, plunging myself down as much of his length as I can manage. Thomas groans, and one of his hands moves to the back of my head, holding me firmly in place as he begins to thrust. He makes short, insistent moves into me, controlling the pace as he claims my mouth for himself.
Startled by my lack of control, I try instinctively to draw away. I am halted by the hand, fingering my hair and his croaky, needy voice from above. “Stay, Lydia,” he orders sensually. “I shall not hurt you.”
Believing in his words, I try to relax, taking in the air I require through my nose instead of my mouth. After a moment a trickle of fluid comes from him, and I taste the sweetness in the thrusting organ at my lips. I raise my eyes to look to Thomas, seeing his face screwed up in some sort of ecstatic torment. After my recent pleasure, I know something of the way he is feeling, and I w
ant nothing more than to take him there and push him right over the precipice. Allowing him to use me this way feels peculiarly erotic; I am his now, his to claim in any way he chooses. I grasp my mouth around his width, trying to relax when all at once a rush of hot fluid floods my mouth. Thomas groans out loud, pulling back slightly and allowing some of the hot creamy liquid to spill into the bath between us.
His hands are still twisted into his hair as he looks down into my widening eyes. “Lick me clean, Lydia,” he growls.
I look to his still throbbing hardness, and do as he requests, drawing my tongue from the bottom of his shaft slowly up his length. I watch him as I move, seeing his eyes firmly shut at the sensation. “Yes,” he coaxes. “That is so divine.”
Pausing at the tip, I flick my tongue in small circles, overcome with the sensual act which we have just shared. He collapses back into the warm water and draws me back onto his lap. There are no words now; there is only the chemistry between us—the unfettered need to give into the temptation we have been resisting for so many weeks. As our eyes connect, I find my tongue tracing a line over my lower lip, brazenly savouring the taste of Thomas on my lips. The look on his face as it nears is unadulterated debauchery; those hot, attentive lips claiming me for their own once more.
His hands are in my hair again, holding me in place as his mouth possesses me in the most heavenly way. As our lips part, his expression has shifted a little from one of pleasure back to that assured look of authority. “It is time I take you to bed, my love,” he murmurs into my lips.
Not knowing how to respond, I drop my eyes over our combined nudity before I look to him. “What should I do, Thomas?” I whisper.
Smiling, he takes control of the situation once again. “Rise now,” he says, “let’s climb carefully from the tub.”
I nod, following his instructions to the letter, and trying not to overthink what he may have in mind next. Despite my very clear desire for my husband, the thought of him finally plucking my virginity from me stills fills me with a surge of uneasiness.
He follows me out of the bath and wraps a large sheet around me, before securing one at his waist. “Are you ready to become a woman?” he asks, using his towering height to his advantage as he gazes down at me.
“Thomas!” I gasp, feeling my cheeks rouge. I cannot believe that after everything we have already shared, he still has the ability to embarrass me.
He smiles, drawing my damp hair from my neck. “Yes, my love,” he replies, overtly teasing me.
“I do not know what to say to such a question!” I mutter, feigning a shock which in truth I do not really feel.
“Yes, you do,” he says calmly, pressing himself against me.
I press my palm against his hard abdominals. “In truth, Thomas,” I begin, “I feel rather nervous about the experience.”
My words make his face soften, and I feel his embrace tighten at my hip. “Lydia, you have no need to be nervous. I swear I will not hurt you.”
I blink up at him, nodding, a sudden wave of emotion rising in my throat. “I trust you,” I reply, hearing the tremble in my voice.
With that he kisses my forehead, and as quick as a flash, he moves next to me, sweeping me up in his arms. I gasp at the dramatic change of tack, but relax into his arms as he carries me from the humidity of the bathroom into our bridal bedroom.
Chapter Thirty-Six: Surrender
He carries me, still wrapped in my sheet, and stalks effortlessly across to the giant four-poster bed. Placing me gently in the middle of the covers, he climbs on top of me in a heartbeat. I watch as his face rises over me, the dark intensity of his eyes apparent as he gazes down at my wide-eyed expression. “How are you, my love?” he asks gently.
I swallow, gulping down the nervous butterflies flitting around my belly. “Thomas, I am so happy,” I reply.
“I am pleased to hear that,” he answers, tugging back the rogue strands of his wet hair. “I have one thing I should like to retrieve, if I may leave you for a moment?”
I nod, tensing at the unexpected question. He climbs from atop of me, and I rise to my elbows, watching him dart back into the bathroom. He returns just a few moments later, and I eye him intently. His cravat hangs loosely in his left hand, and as he walks back toward the bed, he stops, smiling at me. The fingers of his right hand move to the sheet at his waist, and in a moment it falls to the floor, revealing his wonderful, masculine body. His organ, pleasured only a short time ago, is already stirring as he makes his way back over to me. His eyes never leave mine as his legs skim the bedding. “Remove your sheet, Lydia,” he purrs. “I want you naked.”
I shiver at the command, but do as he says, shuffling the wet fabric from under my body and handing it to him. He takes it, smiling, and throws it behind him to meet his own used sheet.
“Now, Lydia,” he says, climbing back onto the four-poster. “I finally have you.”
I smile, willing the anxiety I feel to evaporate as he moves over my body. All at once he is on top of me, pinning me down into the soft bedding. His strong legs nudge against me, pushing my thighs apart beneath him. I gasp as I feel his hardening excitement between us. He smiles at my response, drawing my arms over the top of my head, and holding me there gently with his hands.
“Before I claim what is mine,” he purrs. “I am going to pleasure you again. I want you to be as relaxed and excited as possible when I slide into your beautiful body.” Thomas leans forward, pressing his lips against my open mouth. I groan at the sensual intimacy. “I am going to bind your wrists,” he tells me, his voice laced with carnal desire.
“Bind me?” I repeat, anxiety flooding my mind.
He grins, reaching down to kiss my startled face. “Yes, my love. Bondage will help you to yield to me. Once you know that you cannot move or disobey, you will have no choice but to surrender to me completely.” The intensity of his eyes is so scorching that I will him to look away, but he does not even flicker. “You have said that you trust me, Lydia. Now I need you to demonstrate that trust. Can you do that?”
I nod, biting down on my lower lip. “Yes, Thomas.”
“Thank you,” he whispers, offering me a long, probing kiss, before he draws away, kneeling up over me and flexing the silk cravat between his fingers.
Wordlessly he moves forward a little, leaning over me as he slides the silk beneath my wrists. He shifts them both together with careful and gentle movements, using the silk to secure my wrists. I tip my head back as far as I can to see him as he works, but my view is dominated by his broad, rippling chest and torso. Satisfied at last, he moves back down my body, smiling at the binds.
I test them out of instinct, pulling against the cravat, first gently, and then with some force. I am perturbed to find that neither action has any effect on my bondage. My eyes fly to him as I realise he has really bound me, and reflexively I begin to pant, not quite able to catch my breath.
He smiles at my response. “How wonderful you look this way,” he muses as his sparkling eyes appraise me.
I squirm a little under the weight of his gaze, feeling absurdly vulnerable without the use of my arms and hands.
“You will keep your arms above your head this way,” he orders me sensually. “If you disobey me, not only will you risk a spanking, but I will be forced to secure you to the bed directly.”
I actually feel the moist desire pooling between my legs as his threat registers.
“Do you understand?” he asks me, as his manhood stirs between us.
“Yes, Thomas,” I reply breathlessly.
“Good,” he purrs. “For now, you will lie there and allow your husband to pleasure you.”
His face is gone in an instant as he moves south down my exposed and vulnerable body. He pauses between my legs, and instinctively I raise my head from the covers, wanting to see what he will do next. Our eyes connect, the look on his handsome face nothing short of debauchery. For a long moment we gaze at one another, the
tension between us mounting, and then all at once his head lowers and his mouth presses into my waiting flesh.
I feel his hands at my inner thighs, holding me down and apart, and gently stroking the soft hair he finds there. My head falls back to the bed, the strain in my neck too much to tolerate. Instead, I close my eyes, focusing on the exquisite sensations my husband is creating between my legs. His soft caresses shift to my wet seam, and I feel him exploring me at his leisure. From my place above him, I find myself breathless at the intimacy of the act. Is it right for even a husband to know a woman this way, I wonder? I press my wrists into the bedding above my head, feeling absurdly embarrassed, and yet undeniably excited at his ministrations.
It is then that I feel his lips. The first touch is just a gentle kiss, pressing firmly against my most private area, but then he laps at me, his tongue drawing my seam open. I rise from the bed in an involuntary way, shocked and perturbed by the act. My wrists, still bound by his wedding cravat, leave the bed and fall south to my chest. “Thomas!” I cry out, unsure if the word is a statement or a question.
He eyes me from between my legs, and his face tells me in an instant that he is not impressed with my behaviour. “So it seems you are not able to comply with my simple request?” he asks.
Blanching, I feel the colour drain from my face at his tone. “Thomas, I…” I begin, meaning to explain to him that one cannot simply do such a thing—even to his wife—yet the look in his eye silences me.
Once more he rises from the bed, striding this time toward one of the bags which he has brought with us. He opens the luggage, turning to face me for a moment as he rummages around inside. “Lie down,” he says flatly, returning his attention to the contents of the luggage.
Anxious and uncertain as to what he will do next, I comply, lying flat and returning my arms to their prior position above my head. I watch him from my new vantage, seeing him return, his strong, toned body stalking back toward me. In his right hand I see a length of rope, the sort which one might use to secure an unruly animal. Tension ratchets through my body as the thought registers, but he is back on the bed, straddling me before I can process it.
Taming Lady Lydia Page 30