Authors: Nina Lane
To her further shock, the slap only served to elicit a deeper flash of excitement in his beady eyes. His mouth curved into a lascivious smile.
“A little cat, are you?” he breathed heatedly. “Just what I like.”
Lydia twisted her face away from him, a hint of panic rising in her as she realized that no one was likely to pay much attention to them. Wallace’s bony fingers began shoving up the folds of her skirt and panniers.
“Get away from me!” Lydia snapped, pushing at his chest with a renewed flood of anger. She brought her knee up at the same time, making hard contact with his groin.
To her relief, Wallace yelped in pain and doubled over, enabling Lydia to break away from him. She hurried off without sparing him a second glance. She wasn’t particularly afraid of Wallace, but she didn’t like anyone thinking she was fair game.
As she looked at the other guests, Lydia wondered with a start if that was the intention of the party. Were the guests here to enjoy the delectable pleasures of each other in hedonistic abandonment? Was everyone expected to participate?
Lydia took a measure of solace in the idea that surely Gabriel or Kruin would have informed her if she was expected to allow men like Wallace to grope her heedlessly. Preston would enjoy shocking her, but the other men weren’t that cruel.
Thinking she could find solitude in the library, Lydia went through the corridor to the closed, oak door. She opened it, then stopped to allow her eyes to adjust to the dim light.
Her heart leapt when she heard the unmistakable sounds of copulation emerging from the room. She was just about to turn and leave when she saw the light shining from the desk lamp onto the heaving couple.
Gabriel had Helen bent over the desk, her gauzy skirt flipped over her hips to bare her taut bottom. Her legs were spread to reveal her lightly haired sex, into which Gabriel was thrusting his impressive phallus. His shirt was halfway unbuttoned, his skin damp with perspiration as he pleasured both himself and his companion.
A bolt of unadulterated jealousy went through Lydia, so strong she had to grasp the doorjamb to steady herself. Her heart thudded wildly as she stared at the couple.
Helen’s back arched as she pushed her white bottom toward Gabriel, moans of pleasure coming from her parted lips with every thrust of his penis. The pert mounds of her buttocks bounced as he increased his pace, his hands clutching the slender curves of Helen’s waist to strengthen the impact of their union.
Lydia pressed a hand against her chest, unable to take her eyes from them. She stared at the slick root pumping so vigorously into Helen’s oiled passage, feeling her own sex moisten with envious desire. Gabriel’s tight, firm sacs rammed with a juicy rhythm against the other woman’s pleats as she spread her legs even wider. The swollen bud of her pleasure peeked out from between her fuzzy lips as if to draw attention to the magnitude of her excitement.
Lydia let out a breathy sigh and pressed her thighs tightly together. Ah, how she had longed for the sensation of Gabriel stroking his heavy stalk in and out of her body! Ever since the night he had come into her room, she had wanted him to fill her until her body felt completely saturated with him. Their interlude in the stables had only served to intensify her desire.
Yet even her jealousy over Gabriel’s lust for another woman could not quell Lydia’s strengthening arousal. Her body quivered with it, her sex pulsing with a heady beat that appeared to mimic the rhythm of Gabriel’s thrusts.
She wished desperately that she was the one spread over the desk in the same posture she had assumed during her first interlude with Alex Walker. She imagined Gabriel’s hands gripping her sweat-slicked bottom cheeks, his thick, veined shaft stroking her inner flesh, his fingers seeking out the fissure between her legs and massaging the straining knot…
With a soft moan, Lydia gathered her skirt and petticoats as she fumbled to reach the valley of her sex. She pressed her thumb against the damp crevice, feeling her body quicken with a surge of carnal excitement. Unable to help herself, she began rubbing the cotton of her petticoat, parting her thighs farther to give herself access to her most sensitive areas.
“Well, well, well, whatever are you doing?” An amused voice, laced with menace, cut into Lydia’s haze of desire like a hot knife through butter.
She froze in her incriminating position as Preston appeared in her peripheral vision. He reached out to silently close the library door before looking at her.
“For shame, darling,” he said with a mocking shake of his head. “After all we’ve told you and all the pleasure we’ve shown you, you still find it necessary to touch yourself shamelessly. How often have you done that without my knowledge?”
Lydia let her skirts fall back to the floor, protests rising automatically in her throat.
“I haven’t,” she said. “I swear, Preston, I—”
“Never mind,” he interjected smoothly, his blue eyes glimmering with expectancy. “I’m sure you’ll learn your lesson before long. Anyway, I’ve been looking for you. Come with me, please.”
Knowing better than to question him, especially now, Lydia followed him toward the drawing room.
CHAPTER TWELVE
“Go in, my dear.” Preston opened the door of the drawing room and urged Lydia to precede him.
The swirls of desire evoked by the sight of Gabriel and Helen vanished the moment Lydia stepped into the room. At least fifteen people were lounging around the room, their clothing in disarray, but their masks still firmly in place. An air of anticipation hung over the room, as if the seated guests had been waiting for her.
Lydia’s heart thudded as she heard the click of the door. She thought Preston might have left, but then she felt his hands settle upon her shoulders. His breath brushed against the side of her neck as he bent to whisper in her ear.
“Do you remember, darling, when you slapped my face?” he murmured.
The memory flooded Lydia’s mind like a tide. Part of her had hoped Preston might have forgotten the incident, but another part knew he would never forget—or, indeed, forgive—such a rebellious act.
His teeth nipped hard at her earlobe. “Do you remember?”
Lydia nodded, unable to speak.
“And do you remember when I said that I might choose to carry out punishment at any time?” Preston continued smoothly.
Lydia nodded again as dread rose to fill her chest. She had no doubt he planned to humiliate her now in front of all these strangers. She felt the simultaneous gazes of the guests as if they were burning into her skin.
“So when do you think I might punish you for being such a disobedient little wench?” Preston asked.
Lydia swallowed past a growing lump in her throat. “N-now?”
“Speak up, darling.”
Lydia cleared her throat. “Now.”
“Very good.” Preston smiled and patted her rump. “I believe there’s nothing like a public punishment to bring one into line. And heaven knows you still do require regulation. There are several areas of your behavior which are far too…shall we say, unruly?”
Embarrassment rose in Lydia as she recognized he was speaking about her lack of ability to control her orgasms. Hoping to find comfort, she met the gaze of a woman who was draped over a settee. The woman gave her a cat-like smile, her eyes dark with aroused anticipation behind her mask.
“Now, then.” Preston stroked his hands over Lydia’s shoulders to her breasts, cupping them gently. “I imagine this costume is becoming a bit uncomfortable, hmm? Perhaps you’d like to show our guests your breasts. I know they’ve been eager to see them.”
To Lydia’s horror, he moved away from her and settled into an empty chair. She might have been able to bear this humiliation if he was the one peeling the clothing from her body, for then she would truly have no control over the situation. But she could not imagine baring her breasts of her own volition.
“Lydia?” Preston prompted.
Her hands tightened into fists. She saw Kruin standing in the doorway, his arms crossed over his expansive chest, his dark eyes fixed on her unwaveringly. Lydia had the suspicion that he was not here to participate in her punishment, but merely to observe.
The thought both relieved and unsettled her, for although she dreaded the sting of Kruin’s hand and belt more than anything, she also disliked the knowledge that he would be assessing her. It was as if she were a child being evaluated on her performance.
“Lydia!” Preston was beginning to sound impatient.
Her fingers trembled as she brought them to her bodice, her belly tightening with nerves. Perhaps it would be easier if she didn’t look at anyone. She stared at her cleavage as she pulled the material down, her cheeks reddening as she realized her nipples were already jutting forth rather lewdly.
“Now turn around and lift your skirt,” Preston ordered.
Lydia turned, relieved not to have to face the group anymore. She gathered her heavy skirts and petticoats, lifting them to her hips.
“Who would like to do the honors?” Preston asked.
“I will,” responded a throaty, female voice.
An intense shiver ran through Lydia’s blood as she felt the woman approach and smooth her hands over Lydia’s cotton-clad buttocks.
“Odette, Lydia hasn’t been with a woman in quite some time,” Preston remarked. “Expect her to be a bit twitchy.”
Lydia flushed as several chuckles reverberated through the room. Odette leaned forward, flicking her tongue lightly against the back of Lydia’s neck. Lydia let her eyes drift closed, her skin warming from the mere proximity of another woman.
An image of Cassie with her full breasts and slender, athletic body came to mind once again, causing a plume of arousal to spiral through Lydia. Perhaps this punishment wouldn’t be so horrible if it were dispensed by another woman.
The warmth of Odette’s hands seeped through the thin cotton of Lydia’s panties. She drew in a sharp breath when the other woman began pulling them down. Odette’s fingers trailed over Lydia’s soft, bare skin as her rounded bottom was slowly exposed to the heated eyes of the guests.
“Mmm.” Odette trailed her slender forefinger into the shadowy crevice between Lydia’s plump cushions. “No wonder Preston likes you so much. Such a gorgeous backside is just ripe for all sorts of whips and paddles. Bend over.”
Her flush deepening, Lydia braced herself on a sidetable and leaned forward, thrusting her hips backward. She felt Odette’s long fingers parting her bottom cheeks, then moving lower to dip into the humid cleft of her sex.
A burn of embarrassment flared inside Lydia as Odette remarked upon the degree of moisture already clinging to her inner lips. She couldn’t suppress a moan as Odette’s finger pressed into her quivering channel. Another titter of amusement mingled with arousal passed over the crowd.
Grateful at least that she didn’t have to face the guests, Lydia crossed her arms on the table and rested her forehead against them. She knew the posture would thrust her bottom farther outward, even parting the folds of her sex to expose all of her intimate charms. Struggling or protesting would only serve to delay the inevitable, and possibly even provide the crowd with more entertainment.
A gasp choked her throat when Odette’s palm slapped against her bare bottom, causing a pleasurable, little sting. With a laugh, Odette spanked her several times. The strike of her soft, feminine hand was infinitely different from Kruin’s iron-like palm. A pinkish warmth coated Lydia’s cheeks by the time Odette stepped away from her.
Lydia felt a tug on the back of her gown. Anxiety clutched at her as she recognized Preston’s touch. With swift movements, he began unfastening the myriad hooks and eyes of her gown. He slipped the sleeves from her arms, letting the heavy silk drift to the floor.
Although she was still clad in her petticoats and corset, Lydia experienced a strange urge to cross her arms over her breasts.
“Turn around.”
Lydia did, feeling the burn of hot gazes on her body. Preston unlaced the strings of her petticoats and panniers, removing them so quickly that Lydia wondered at his experience with this kind of complicated costume.
She was soon standing there in her stockings and corset, which had forced her spine into such a stiff, upright posture all evening that her entire back was sore. She longed for Preston to unlace the corset so she could breathe freely again, but he didn’t.
Instead, he bent to remove her panties and stockings, leaving her naked save for her corset. The sensation of her upper body so tightly bound contrasted sharply with the feeling of being utterly exposed below the waist. Lydia wanted to hide her shaven mons from the lecherous eyes of the guests, all of whom were watching her with lust.
She blushed hotly, aware of how she must look constrained by the corset with her sex peeping enticingly out from between her plump thighs.
“Now then,” Preston said. “Since you appear so eager to touch yourself, why don’t you do so now?”
Lydia stared at him in shock. “What?”
“You heard me. Or if you need clarification, I want you to diddle your pussy in front of us.”
Lydia couldn’t move for the humiliation that scorched her. Her heart throbbed so loudly she could hear it inside her head like an incessant drumbeat. Her senses were so heightened that she could hear the breathing of the people watching her, smell the champagne on Preston’s breath, feel the trickle of perspiration that dripped between her shoulder blades.