anything else we do. Do you promise me you will if you feel the need?"
"Yes, I promise."Desiree's body thrummed. She suspected what he had in mind
and prayed she was correct.
Prentice knelt between her spread legs and applied oil to her anus with a cold
finger. She thought it odd that the sensation should be so pleasurable.
"Try to relax."
She nearly came apart with anticipation. Heretofore, she'd only had her French
phallus with which to experiment, and she had done so as often as possible.
Prentice slipped a finger into her, and though it was delicious, the feeling was
nowhere near what she wanted.
"Are you all right?"
"Yes, but I want more."
"More it is." He removed his finger and replaced it with two.
The feeling was so vastly different, stretching, resistance. She felt full, but still
wanted more. She willed herself to relax into the burn. Prentice moved his fingers
inside her, stretching the tight muscles, creating a slow arousal. She was afraid the
ecstasy of it would send her into an orgasm. She didn't want this heavenly experience to
end.
"Do you like this?"
"Oh, yes." She pushed back against his hand. "I want more."
"Are you sure, sweeting?"
"More, please." She focused on the burn and the ultimate pleasure. "I want you."
She felt the bed move and heard the rustle of fabric, making her think he was
removing his clothes. She didn't move a muscle, fearful he would interpret any
movement as discomfort on her part. For years, she had dreamed of being taken this
way, but never had the courage to seek it out. Now, it was being given as a gift. She was
in rapture.
The bed dipped under his weight. Again, she felt his cool hands as he applied oil
to her anus and his cock. He knelt behind her, spreading her legs wide with his own.
With as mellow a voice as she had ever heard him use, he said, "Relax now. I will
try not to hurt you."
"I want you." The tears of a realized desire flowed freely, streaking her cheeks
and seeping into the counterpane.
She could feel him at her entrance, teasing the tight opening. Her heart pounded,
her breath self-restricted. Her fingers, once splayed, now were fisted, the bed linens
bunched in her palms. The anticipation of what was to come had a powerful command
over her.
When he slipped the head of his cock just inside, it burned like fire, stretching
her beyond her perceived capacity, but soon, as her muscles relaxed, it began to feel
better than anything she'd ever experienced. More intense, all consuming.
He stopped his progression, which allowed her to absorb the pain.
"Are you all right?" he asked.
Desiree nodded, afraid to speak lest he sense her tears. She sucked deep breaths
in, then blew them out completely.
Deeming him too careful, she began to push back, gently at first, then with more
zeal as her muscles relaxed, accepting the substantial invasion. She rocked on her knees,
taking him in, inch by precious inch, until she felt wiry hair abrading her tortured
bottom. She'd taken him in fully. She was in the boughs.
Chapter Fourteen
"Are you all right?" he asked again, once he was fully surrounded by her.
"I have never been more so."
Her voice was sweetness itself. Her anal muscles were pulsing, kneading his
cock, causing him to exert more control than he thought he possessed. He concentrated
on the constricting warmth as he waited for her muscles to relax. It was a sweet agony,
and he wanted desperately to move, but would only do so by her leave. Then he felt a
slight rocking, accompanied by sensual moans, punctuated with several phrases that all
seemed to end in, "Fuck me."
His own little naughty minx. "You like this." A statement, not a question.
"I love this, more please. Harder. Make me feel you inside me."
He leaned forward and kissed her back. He placed his elbows on the pillows, and
enveloped her in his embrace as he began a gentle glide out then in again, his schooled
hips establishing a rhythm as old as time.
"More, Prentice. I need more."
With a force he hadn't wanted to employ, he gave a sharp jerk of his hips and
hilted himself. He stilled to listen for her reaction.
She grunted. She moaned. And then gasped out, "Let me feel more."
He did, his thrusts accompanied by grunts of his own. Sweat streamed down his
face, on his chest and back, the exertion heating his body as much as his lust.
Her back glistened with her own efforts; her moans became mewling, then
keening. He thrust his hips as though it were her quim he was fucking. God, she felt so
good. The velvety softness of this forbidden place was so tight, yet seemed made for his
cock. Her heat seared him as she accepted his rhythm, working with him to bring them
both to the place they so desperately wished to be. She whispered his name, over and
over again, spurring him on.
He dropped a hand to her clitoris, taking it between two fingers and rubbing
until he felt her body tighten, his cock the beneficiary of the climax she was
experiencing. Her legs scissored, only kept open by his own; her back arched, and he
had to shift his position to stay with her.
He wanted her to feel him fucking her as she exploded in her release. He
slammed into her, pulled almost free and thrust hard again.
"Prentice, oh, my God!"
He had no idea if he'd hurt her and couldn't stop to find out. He exploded, his
seed pouring into her as his body demanded surcease. He strained, feeling the blood
throbbing against his forehead. He hammered against her ass, seeking more, deeper,
tighter. As the last pulses left him, he expelled a resonating groan. It had been a climax
he'd remember.
Shaken, exhausted and sated, he dragged her off the pillows and rolled with her
so they lay on their sides. He was still embedded deeply within her, his cock still
partially hard. He didn't want to separate from her, somehow believing this would be
proven a dream. In a sense, it was a dream, but so much more. She'd accepted, as well
as encouraged the act, reveling in it and in him.
When sanity and breath returned, he asked, "Are you well, sweetheart?"
"Quite." Her voice was shaky, her eyes closed.
"Look at me." He demanded her attention.
When she didn't obey at once, he uncoupled and turned her over to face him. She
was in tears, and from the wet mark on the counterpane, he surmised she'd been crying
for some time.
"What is it? Have I injured you?"
A sob tore from her throat. "I am not hurt. It is just that you have fulfilled a
dream for me, one I never foresaw coming true."
"What dream?" His mind searched through all they had done. Incredulity
forbade him presuming she meant what he had just so powerfully experienced.
"There are things you don't know about me, Prentice, that I've never told
anyone."
"What things? You must tell me. Trust me."
She sniffled, hiccupped a bit, the tears flowing abated. "I do trust you, else I
would have never come here with you."
He waited and allowed her to catch her breath.
"I came to you because I wanted to be spanked. Now you have given me
something I had never dared imagine."
Prentice managed to hold himself together, when all he wanted to do was assure
her that it was she who had given him the greater gift. "You've thought about . . . ?"
She nodded and raised her hand to touch his face. "For some time now, but as for
spanking, well, I've wanted to be spanked since I was a girl, I looked forward to it,
sometimes provoking my father's temper. I received some fairly satisfying thrashings,
without anyone ever realizing I was enjoying them. It's been far more difficult since I've
been grown. How does one tell their old, staid husband, 'Darling, won't you take your
riding crop and whip me with it, please'?" She affected a voice that made him laugh
uncontrollably. She then became caught up in the humor, and together, they rolled
about the bed until they were exhausted.
"That is priceless, my dear. I must say, I always wondered what motivates
someone to come to the club and seek out the things they do. Serenity and I have
spoken several times about her motivations, which always seemed rather straight
forward. She'd had a lover who'd introduced her to the pleasures and pain of spanking.
She found she not only enjoyed it but needed it."
"I understand that. I have come to need it as well."
"But the sex, Desiree, how could you know about such things?"
"Remember my father's drawings?"
"Ah, yes. Quite an education for a young girl, eh?"
"I suppose, but until now, I had no way to imagine how wonderfully satisfying
such an act could be." Her sweet smile, flushed face and watery eyes melted the rough
edges he so proudly displayed.
Though reluctant to leave her, even to walk to the washstand, he did just that,
cleaning himself then obtaining a clean cloth, wetting it and bringing it back to her. He
gently washed her bottom, careful not to touch her inflamed anus. With a careless
gesture, he tossed the wet cloth in the direction of the washstand and climbed back onto
the bed.
He hugged her, trying not to squeeze her too tightly. Before he knew it, he was
hard as stone and at her entrance, pushing himself into her. She brought her legs about
his waist. As they looked into each other's eyes, he made love to her, deeply,
deliberately, sensuously. There was no frenzied movements, no desperate need to reach
the pinnacle, just slow, punctuated thrusts, driving home the importance of this single
act. For him, it was a declaration, a confession. In a short time, after he worked out the
details, he was intent on making Desiree Huntington his own. For him, she was
becoming his home.
* * * * *
Despite Desiree's pleas, Prentice needed to return to London with alacrity. By
this time, his mother would be frantic, if not ready to call out the Runners. He knew
Byrd would sooner be castrated than divulge his whereabouts, but it was time to let the
man off the proverbial hook.
They reluctantly left the folly, returned to the manor house, from where they
would depart by early afternoon.
Desiree moped, even pouted, but to no avail. Prentice remained resolute, and she
could do naught but comply with his wishes.
* * * * *
It was in the wee hours of the morning when the carriage pulled onto Doughty
Street. For Desiree, too much of the real world came crashing back at once. Gripped by
despair and dread, she foresaw her life changing yet again, plunging her into the abyss
that was her future. She hated to leave Prentice but knew that if she didn't do it now,
she never would.
She had many wonderful memories to comfort her on those nights when she had
only her phallus for company. She would always picture his face and imagine the next
decadent thing he had planned for her. However, she had every indication that his
feelings for her were engaged and now was the time to strike. He mustn't ever have the
opportunity to hurt her so profoundly again. It was time to forge ahead with her plan,
and if she suffered a momentary loss, so be it.
Just before they'd left the manor house, she'd asked him to spank her. He, of
course, had no idea it was for the last time, but had complied when she'd asked him to
make it memorable. He'd not employed the strap but instead used his hand, which he
said was appropriately intimate. She'd silently cried for hours as she thought the same
thing.
When the carriage stopped in front of her house, Prentice jumped out and lifted
her down. He walked her to the door as the coachman brought her bags, turning them
over to Ferguson, her sleepy butler.
They stood outside, as she was reluctant to invite him into her home, lest she beg
him to stay. He kissed her hand, asked her to come to the club on the morrow, then left.
They had made love several times in the carriage during the long journey from
Cambridge and kissed until her lips were raw. Those memories would be enough to
hold her through the long years ahead. They would have to be.
She stood outside until his carriage turned onto Oxford Street, and drove out of
sight. She whipped through the front door and made a mad dash up the stairs, directly
to her bedchamber. The room was cold and dark, which suited her abysmal disposition.
She wanted nothing more than to lie across her bed, where she could alternately cry
and ruminate on the idyll she'd spent with the Marquess of Wycroft. He was in love
with her, something she knew as surely as she knew her own name. Now, it was time to
break his heart, as hers had been broken so many years before, and if she was honest,
was breaking now.
* * * * *
Lucien and Prentice were enjoying a late breakfast when Hampton scratched at
the door and entered. "A missive for Lord Wycroft," he announced, as he presented the
silver salver. Prentice took the ivory foolscap, nodded to Hampton, and cracked the
wax seal. He drew his eyes to the signature and saw it was signed by Desiree. His
heartbeat increased significantly.
Dear Lord Wycroft,
I wish to thank you for the wonderful days we spent together and all you have taught me.