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“I am still waiting, Miss Herwood.”
She squirmed. “What you ask is...degrading.”
“Degrading? Consider yourself fortunate that I did not ask you to pleasure yourself before all the guests at the Chateau.”
She sucked in her breath.
“Pleasuring yourself is no less natural than coition.”
She shook her head. “I can’t. You may find it easy to adhere to Eastern philosophies on the matter, but it is different for me.”
“You underestimate yourself, Miss Herwood. Come. It would please me greatly.”
He seized her moment of indecision to pull her petticoat down to her thighs, his own breath catching when he beheld her naked arse. Yes, he remembered well her delightful derriere and how it had quivered beneath his flogger. He slid two fingers down the curve of one buttock, admiring its contour, before palming it. He returned his other hand between her thighs. She let out an immediate moan.
Grasping her hand, he forced her to join his caresses. She put up a short-lived resistance until desire overcame her shame. Her hips swayed gently to their joint strokes. He pressed his erection against her arse and closed his eyes for a brief moment. With her body rubbing against him, her grunting and groaning filling his ears, it was all he could do not to unbutton his fall and release his cock.
And they had barely begun.
He took a fortifying breath and gathered his concentration. As he kissed her behind her ear, a particularly sensitive spot for her, he gently retracted the hand that held hers. She did not stop. Satisfied, he reached for her breast and kneaded the flesh while his fingers toyed with the nipple. He ground his hips into her backside, bumping and grinding her into the wall. Eyes shut, she frigged herself more vigorously. His blood was on fire with the motions, the sounds, and the scent of her desire wafting into his nostrils, triggering something primeval and animalistic. Pinching her other nipple, he sent her over the
edge. She cried out. Her body shook against him. He caught her about the waist and pinned her to the wall before she slid to the floor. Her breath was fast, her cheeks flushed. He kissed the tip of her ear.
“Well done, Miss Herwood,” he commended. “Now, about your punishment...”
* * * * *
Deana could barely hear him through the loud thudding of her heart. Overwhelmed by the intensity of what had just happened, she kept her forehead pressed to the wall and her eyes closed, not ready to face the world, still waiting for the currents in her body to run their course. She could hardly believe that she had done what he had bid. That she had truly executed the deed was as shocking as the initial request. Shame and impish satisfaction flooded her body. What she had done was wrong and naughty.
But, oh my, how glorious were the results. Once she had begun, the titillation had surprised her. Eventually the needs of her body had consumed her. The feel of his hands upon her body, the confined space betwixt him and the wall, all added to the concentration of desire. If only he had taken her and inserted his cock into her yearning cunnie, the experience would have wanted for nothing.
She felt feathery light kisses planted upon her neck. His hand caressed her upper back, between the shoulders, before he backed away from her. Her petticoat slid to her feet. With her breasts pulled out of her blouse, she might as well have been naked before him. Although being naked before him was nothing new, a year had passed and the novelty returned. Feeling far too exposed before his discerning eye, she bent down to retrieve it.
He stayed her. “We’ve not finished yet.”
Of course. He had not spent yet. She was surprised he had withheld as long as he had and wondered how he intended to finish his business.
“Step to the foot of the bed,” he instructed.
She did as told.
“Grasp the bedpost with both hands above your head.”
Though fulfilled but a moment ago, she felt a new warmth circulating within her. Her timidity had not completely dissolved, but she was feeling more at ease with his directions. Again, she did as he bid.
“Do not let go. I could tie you to the post but prefer not to.”
Would he take her from behind? Her cunnie throbbed at the idea. She heard his footsteps and knew without looking what he had reached for: the riding crop. The sound of it slapping against his boot confirmed her suspicion.
“Your punishment—”
“But I did as you bid,” she protested.
“After much delay.”
“But—”
“Are you refuting me, Miss Herwood?”
