Clarissa moistened her lips.
The young woman looked at her with sullen indifference. ‘Tired?’ she asked. ‘Thirsty? Hungry?’
Clarissa nodded. ‘Could I please have a drink?’ she said softly.
The maid smiled, her jade eyes sparkling. ‘That makes my task easier,’ she replied.
She lifted the jug to Clarissa’s mouth, tipping it slightly. The liquid washed over Clarissa’s parched throat and chilled an exquisite path to her stomach. It trickled from her lips as she drank, spilling sweet, icy droplets on to her breasts. She gulped her fill and murmured satisfaction, murmurs which grew more urgent when the pitcher was not withdrawn. She moved her head back and the glass rim followed, pressing to
her lips. She locked her throat. Water streamed over her chin, coursed down her neck, and splashed on to her body.
The young woman pulled the vessel away and sighed.
‘Enough,’ gasped Clarissa through coughs and splutters. ‘Thank you. Enough.’
The maid paused, watching her recover. When Clarissa’s breath was steady she raised the jug once more.
‘His lordship’s request,’ said the girl, regarding her with an unwavering gaze. ‘You’re to drink it all.’
Clarissa swallowed some of the liquid in shock then pursed her lips, resisting. She could not understand why Marldon would want such a thing.
‘Damnation,’ hissed the young woman, lowering the pitcher. ‘I thought you were thirsty. Brinley!’
The door opened and Marldon’s weaselly valet came into the room. His smoky-green eyes raked Clarissa’s helpless, naked body.
‘Being difficult is she, Charlotte?’ he said gleefully, shrugging off his frock coat and dropping it to the ground. He tugged the tie from his neck and began hastily unfastening his shirt studs.
Panic swam in Clarissa’s mind. He was going to threaten her. He was going to violate her if she disobeyed. Her shackled legs felt suddenly more open than ever. ‘No,’ she pleaded. ‘Let me drink.’
Charlotte immediately tilted the jug to Clarissa’s lips. She drank urgently, fighting the instinct to choke it from her mouth. The water was hard to swallow. It flowed ceaselessly into her, bloating her belly to leaden heaviness. When she’d drained the contents, the young maid stepped back and smiled contentedly.
‘His lordship invariably gets his own way,’ she said, setting down the empty jug.
‘So I hear,’ said Brinley, flashing the girl a knavish grin.
He was naked now, his lean buttocks reflecting endlessly in one of the mirrors. His prick, clasped in his fist,
was stiff and upright. Its gleaming purple tip swelled above his fingers, and he fixed Clarissa with bright, taunting eyes. Slowly, he moved his hand up and down the turgid stem.
Clarissa whined in soft complaint and turned away, remembering her first night when she’d sucked the valet’s penis. The memory revolted her, and terror ran quick and cold in her veins. Had Alec ordered him to do worse things to her? Was he going to ravish her? She jerked on her manacles in panic and fury, and felt the volume of water sloshing inside her. She wished she could close her legs.
‘Miss Longleigh,’ said Brinley lightly, moving into the range of her vision. ‘I see you’ve been enjoying yourself.’
He stooped to pick up the ivory phallus and held it to his nose, his nostrils flaring as he inhaled deeply. A hot flush swept from Clarissa’s bosom to her face. She felt as if he and the whole world had witnessed her earlier disgrace. Oh, why had Marldon ordered this torment, for doubtless he had?
‘Whatever he’s told you to do,’ she said angrily, ‘will you do it quickly and leave me be.’
Brinley laughed and exchanged conspiratorial glances with Charlotte.
‘Very well,’ he said. His wide, thin-lipped mouth twisted in a satyric smile. ‘To be honest, I’m more than ready.’
He crossed to the young maid and began unfastening the blue buttons of her dress. Clarissa released a soft breath, her dread and horror easing. Perhaps she was not to be subjected to the insolent fellow’s phallus. She was alarmed to think her expectations were worse than Lord Alexander’s plans.
Charlotte assisted the valet, eagerly casting off linens and silks. Her body was slender, her breasts small and pert with pinched cherry-red nipples. The couple embraced, sharing fervent kisses and dashing hands over each other’s flesh.
Their passionate, carefree nudity heightened Clarissa’s sense of shame and vulnerability. She felt so distanced from them, somehow more naked, sickeningly exposed. When the two broke apart and turned to her, those feelings rushed to an acute pitch of horror.
Brinley stood behind Charlotte, palming the scant globes of her breasts and gazing over her shoulder. They both looked so alike, slim-hipped and pale, with elegantly boned faces and dark-brown curls. But worse than that was the similarity of their expressions. Charlotte watched her just as Brinley did: sensual wet lips curving in an avaricious smirk, grey-green eyes leering, shining with appetite.
Clarissa’s heart pounded. She made a gasp of fear and wriggled against her bondage. The movement was uncomfortable, reminding her of the liquid weighing in her belly.
‘Told you she had good tits,’ said Brinley, studying her.
He edged forward, his hands still on the maid’s breasts, ushering her closer to Clarissa. When the girl was just inches away, the valet scooped her white half-globes high. Charlotte leant in a little, allowing Brinley to touch her rigid nipples to Clarissa’s. Lightly, he brushed them back and forth.
A sob caught in Clarissa’s throat. She twisted her head aside, avoiding the maid’s lustful face, and blinked back the threat of tears. She could feel the heat of the girl’s breath on her cheek and smell the cleanness of her hair. Occasionally their hips and bellies nudged together and Charlotte’s pubic curls tickled her own.
Brinley continued moving his lover’s breasts, scuffing their hard peaks across Clarissa’s rose-pink flesh. The persistent strokes sensitised and teased, and she felt her nipples puckering to aroused points. It embarrassed and shamed her.
Charlotte murmured delight and slid her hands down Clarissa’s contours, moving from the dip of her waist to
the smoothness of hips and flanks. Stepping back, she bent to take a nipple in her warm, wet mouth. Her streaming brown tresses swept softly against Clarissa’s skin, and her tongue lashed, her lips suckled. Clarissa moaned. Her body tingled in response, little tremors of pleasure radiating from her sweetly aching tips. Heat stirred in her sex, and her wide-spread legs began shaking gently. Her hips rocked of their own accord.
‘Alec said she’d like it,’ breathed Brinley. ‘Come on, Lottie. Let me join you.’
‘No,’ whispered Clarissa, shutting her eyes and resting her head against the wood. It was a perfunctory protest, born out of feeble embarrassment, not rejection.
The valet’s lips closed over her other nipple, bathing it in heat. A long groan rumbled faintly in Clarissa’s throat. Hands snaked over her creamy, satin curves and she relaxed into the spreading bliss. Immediately, she tensed, aware of the fullness in her bladder. She hoped no one would lean against her belly.
But their caresses stayed gentle, luxurious, and arousal began to pulse at her groin. Charlotte licked a slow, wet path down her bloated stomach and drifted kisses over her hips, her thighs. She knelt on all fours and nuzzled her head between Clarissa’s parted legs. Her mouth, damp and soft, pressed there. A flash of sensation speared Clarissa’s loins and she gasped in shock and excitement. It was not right that another woman should touch her so, yet that very thought seemed to increase her excitement.
Charlotte’s tongue slipped into her folds and squirmed along the sleek, hungry groove. With a moist, warm caress, she tantalised the engorged flesh, nibbling and sucking.
Clarissa writhed in torment. She chafed to give herself up entirely to the pleasure, yet she was not free to do so. The pressure of the water she’d consumed was too much; it forestalled her ease.
Brinley dropped away from her. Clarissa watched in the opposite mirror as he stooped over Charlotte, stroking along her back then kneading her slender rear.
‘Oh, Lottie, Lottie,’ he said in a voice full of longing. ‘I need to fuck you. I really need to.’
The half-crouched maid edged her shins wider, opening herself, and the valet dropped to his knees behind her. His fingers toyed briefly between her thighs and she mumbled her pleasure into Clarissa’s hot, slippery sex. Then he shuffled close, his prick poised at Charlotte’s entrance and, with a jerk, slammed into her.
In the glass, Clarissa saw the reflection of his buttocks, tensing with each strong, eager lunge. The image of their coupling, raw and bestial, added a spark to her own pleasure. She turned her gaze away, fighting the nearness of her crisis. Her body pleaded for her to relinquish control, yet she dared not do so for fear her bladder would empty. No doubt her suffering was intended. Lord Marldon had commanded that she drink so much.
With greedy enthusiasm, the maid lapped at Clarissa’s inflamed vulva. Brinley drove rapidly into her, grunting in time to his thrusts, his eyes set on Clarissa. He watched her keenly, judging her reactions, his face contorted with ecstasy and exertion.
‘God,’ he gasped. ‘I’d like to have you on your knees. I’d like to be hammering into you, Miss Longleigh. I can’t wait until Marldon tires of you. We’ll have you then, no limits, and God, what a day it will be.’
Clarissa’s curses were lost in the clamour of her agonising desire. Brinley laughed at her torment between hoarse, gulping breaths. His hips pumped hungrily and he scratched red weals along Charlotte’s back, spitting obscenities.
In the mirror, his sinewy haunches flexed. His noises grew to a frenzy, and his urgency increased Clarissa’s own. She felt herself on the verge of an orgasm she could not, dared not have.
There was a movement at her side. She turned to see Lord Marldon slip quietly into the room and close the door. He wore a long dressing robe of black silk and clearly there was little else beneath it. His long muscular
legs flashed through the front split as he moved. He leant against the wall, his arms folded, and ran a connoisseur’s gaze over the scene. His head nodded, approvingly, and he smiled at Clarissa.
A surge of self-consciousness dampened her need. For once, she appreciated his cold scrutiny: it made the task of curbing her lust easier.
Brinley glanced at his master. He screwed his eyes shut and pounded fiercely. Alec crossed the room and draped himself along the low couch. He rested his arm high on the silver frame and, with one foot on the satin, the other on the floor, affected a pose of languid nonchalance.
‘Get on with it, man,’ he said. ‘Or finish her off in the kitchens.’ His weary tone belied his obvious arousal. The silk over his crotch twitched and lifted with the swelling of his erection.
The valet gave an exultant shout and buried himself deep inside the young maid. She wailed into Clarissa’s throbbing wet flesh before pulling away, breathless and shuddering.
‘Now scram,’ said Marldon evenly, as the two drew apart.
Charlotte looked up at him with a challenging smirk and crawled towards her heap of clothes. Lord Alec leapt up and grabbed at the crumpled garments. Flinging open the door, he hurled them outside.
‘And do it quickly,’ he snapped, kicking at strewn bits of fabric.
Charlotte protested and snatched up her remaining clothes while Brinley hurriedly collected his. From the corridor, the maid hurled angry abuse at him.
‘And tell your sister to shut up this instant,’ said Alec, slamming the door on the departing valet.
‘Sister?’ echoed Clarissa in shock. ‘You mean –’ She broke off abruptly, replaying the word in her head. It made sense; the two were so alike.
‘Didn’t you know?’ asked Marldon, crossing to stand before her. ‘I thought it was obvious. In fact, their
incestuous love was the reason I took them on. No one else in the land would touch them. Personally, I find it quite endearing. And they are, of course, eternally indebted to me. A most useful thing in a servant. Did they treat you well, Clarissa?’
Marldon slipped a hand between her thighs, and dabbled his fingers in her seeping wetness. Clarissa writhed, squirming to fight her arousal and the urge to relax her bladder.
‘Ah, I see they did,’ he murmured.
He slicked along the glossy seam then probed into the eager cavern of her vagina.
‘Please,’ she entreated, ‘unfasten me. Allow me my freedom.’
Marldon moved his hand up and pressed it to her liquid-swollen belly. ‘Why?’ he enquired with a knowing smile.
Clarissa gritted her teeth and squeezed her inner muscles tight. The near-bursting pain was excruciating. It made her eyes water, her stomach burn. Lord Marldon stepped back and untied the cord at his waist. The black silk slithered, like a cat in the night, from his hard alabaster body. His cock, enormously stiffened, surged from his dark bush of hair, its tip blood-violet.
‘I’ll release you in a while,’ he said, running his hands over her flesh. ‘Once I’ve taken my pleasure inside you.’
‘No,’ said Clarissa. ‘Do not, my lord. I need … I have to –’
‘To piss?’ ventured Alec, arching his dark brows.
‘Yes,’ she snapped. Clarissa could not understand why he wished her to suffer in such a distasteful manner.
‘How long do you think you can hold on for?’ he said, pressing his body to hers.
He bent his knees, nudging the fleshy knob of his prick at her pouting sex. With slow control, he pushed his tumid phallus into her. The bulbous crown forged a steady path, widening her to take his stout, solid shaft, until he was sheathed to the hilt in her loins.
He grinned at her. ‘How long?’ he repeated, with a quick upward shove.
Clarissa groaned. His rock-hard stiffness filled her, accentuating the pressure and the need for relief. She contracted her sex muscles, gripping him in a bid to quell the demands of her full, aching bladder.
‘Not long,’ she said. ‘Please don’t do this. It hurts. I need to go.’
‘Your modesty is most amusing,’ he replied. ‘Particularly considering that, but a few hours since, you were so shameless and wanton. Surely if you can masturbate before me, Clarissa, you can piss before me.’