AllFreeNovel
Share Us
It wasn’t true, was it? How could I say that the baron’s erect manhood looked beautiful? It looked big, and frightening, as it rose from the dark thicket of his pubic hair. Down below it, I noticed for the first time, there seemed to hang a little pouch, wrinkly and very curious. I couldn’t have looked away or closed my eyes now, for all the world:fascinating, yes, terribly and shamefully fascinating.
Suddenly I felt Mistress Franla’s lips at my ear, and I shivered at the surprising contact, the unexpected intimacy.
“It is beautiful,” she whispered, “because it belongs to his lordship. That is all you need to know. Very soon you will understand that it is also beautiful because when you submit properly and please your master as you should, it will make you feel very good indeed.”
I had taken my lower lip between my teeth. I felt the furrow in my brow grow even deeper. My breath came in and out of my nose in short little puffs.
“Master,” I whispered, “your penis is very beautiful. May… may I have it in my mouth, please?”
I had scarcely noticed his right hand on the back of my head for long moments. I realized, as I felt him use that hold on my skull to gently lower my face, that he could have forced the cock between my lips if he had chosen and enjoyed me that way. A warmth filled my chest at the thought, a feeling that like my urge to give the baron pleasure a moment before, came as both welcome and unwelcome.
He wants my submission. He doesn’t want to hurt me.
Tentatively I opened my mouth.
Except when he does.
CHAPTER 23
Chalondra
“Wider, Wetquim,” said Mistress Franla, her voice suddenly imperious. “Your master’s cock is very big, and you must learn to receive it properly.”
As I obeyed, stretching my mouth further open until it felt as if my jaw would come unhinged, I glanced up into my master’s face, feeling daring, and then—when I saw him gazing steadily back—alarmed, and worse, ashamed. The heat rushed into my cheeks. Embarrassment filled me at the knowledge that he had his eyes on me, watching me about to serve him in this abased, degrading fashion. It came alongside the strange, unwelcome feeling that by forgetting my station as a mere bed girl and looking my noble owner in the eye, I had shamed myself.
His lordship’s eyes narrowed for a moment, and my heart jumped with fear at the thought that he would spank me again. I squeezed my bottom cheeks, spread them further, whimpering at the sensation, as if I could convey to my master that he had punished me enough, that my momentary lapse onlyrepresented a tiny mistake. I looked back down at his penis, sure that my face must have turned a deep scarlet.
“No,” he said, his voice to my surprise quite gentle. “Look up, my dear. I want to see your eyes just before you start to suck my cock for the first time.”
“Put your tongue out a little, Wetquim,” my mistress commanded from behind me. She put her fingers on my pussy again, as lightly as if they were made of feathers, as if to remind me that my obedience would be rewarded. “You must learn to cover your lower teeth with it when you do kneeling service.”
Kneeling service.What Mistress Franla called the obscene thing I must do, the dark pleasure I must provide. I extended the tip of my tongue, and I looked up again into my master’s face.
“There,” he said, and he smiled. I tried to persuade myself—the spirited part of me tried, at least—that I didn’t like that smile: that I hated it even. But my mistress’ fingers began to exert more friction on the nub at the top of my virgin pussy. I couldn’t hold anything like hatred in my heart, because my master had a compassionate smile on his lips as he watched me forced to feel such pleasure that I began to ride Mistress Franla’s hand lewdly. I held my warm, punished bottom cheeks in my hands, and I moved my hips, and my mistress didn’t withdraw her fingers as she had before, but rather rubbed more firmly.
I cried out. I felt my master start to exert his own pressure on the back of my head, so as to force my face down, to lower my open mouth onto the huge, hard shaft of his penis. A moment went by, when I lost sight of his face and turned my eyes downward again to see him holding his cock, ready to place it between my lips and on my tongue, before I realized that I wasn’t resisting him at all.
Then I felt him do it, and I tasted the slightly salty flavor of his skin, and something a little bitter that I thought must be the fluid that came from the cock in answer to my own wetness. My master’s hips moved, too, as if in imitation of my shameless ride atop Mistress Franla’s hand. He moved his left hand to the back of my head and held my mouth still. He thrust his hardness upward into the moist cavity between my lips once, shallowly… twice, deeper…
I shuddered as I felt that thick shaft, throbbing with his lordship’s heartbeat, invade me. My brow furrowed deeply, and my face grew even hotter at the way he held my head in place, my mouth clearly a mere receptacle for the use of his rigid manhood. I clutched my backside, whimpering around the cock that filled me too full, its head pressing against the back of my throat. My mistress’ fingers moved more rapidly, as if to reward me for the shame and discomfort of this kneeling service.
“That’s it,” my master growled, thrusting more quickly, his strong lap covered except for his cock and the little purse below it, in silken black fabric. “Just be a good girl now for your face fucking and your master is going to let you taste his seed.”
The depth of his voice, and the huskiness of it… the hint of brutality in his words… the way his lordship Baron Gravamir sounded almost animalistic, as if the pleasure to be found in my mouth had overcome his elegant, cultured, civilized manner entirely and turned him into a wild creature… together with Mistress Franla’s unceasing attention to my pussy, her thumb pushing in to my bottom hole, where she had cleaned me for my first night in my master’s bed… it all made me cry out around the thrusting shaft of the baron’s cock. I breathed roughly through my nose, and every time I thought I would gag on the penis, on its too-long, too-thick bulk, my master pulled it back and mymistress’s fingers somehow made it feel good to undergo this servile ordeal.
Distantly my mind tried to understand what his lordship had said, what he had meant about tastinghis seed. Somewhere in the faroff depths or heights to which my reason had fled, I put it all together at last: how fucking planted a seed, how babies were made. I knew enough about human anatomy to understand even that of the places my master had coarsely promised to fuck me, only my pussy would give the chance of making a baby. To make me taste his seed would mean also to ensure he did not put a baby in my belly. I could hardly have said why, since I had only just discovered these secrets, but I knew that this made my kneeling service more shameful.
This thought, to the horror of the distant rational part of me, seemed to multiply the need and the pleasure that came from my mistress’ hand between my legs, her fingers on my clit and her thumb in my bottom hole. My whole body jerked and shuddered, the thrill of fiery ecstasy echoed back somehow from the way his lordship cruelly held my head so very still.
For his pleasure. Without regard for my comfort.
I felt the release starting to come over me. I squeezed my bottom—something in me thought, or maybe pretended to think, that if I did that, reawakening the pain from the terrible spanking I had gotten over my master’s knee, it might distract me. That perhaps it would lessen the pleasure and keep me from coming, because I didn’t want to come. I didn’t want to show them… I didn’t want them to see… this Vionian nobleman whom I had never seen before today, when he had purchased me like an object… and the mistress of concubines he had put in charge of my training…
They must not see, the voice in my head told me, that I could feel good while performing this humiliating kneeling service. So I gripped the little globes of my rear end more tightly, spread them even more widely and uncomfortably open. Surely I could never feel the overwhelming, reason-stealing pleasure of a climax if I reminded my body that the man who was fucking my face had punished me so harshly, just for failing to look at him when he told me to.
Instead the sensation brought on by my lewd holding of my hot, spanked bottom that way brought the release even closer. I had the double shame of knowing that I couldn’t stop myself from coming and that I had lied to myself, or drastically overestimated the strength of my will. My pleasure belonged to my master much too completely, and that idea on its own sent a terrible jolt of need through my nervous system.
“She’s going to come, My Lord,” I heard Mistress Franla say, as if from a faraway star. “I always find that a climax while a pleasure girl licks and kisses her master’s scrotum produces very satisfactory results.”
